Sail Away
by Valerie J
Summary: Harm and Mac go undercover on the reality t.v. show "Temptation Cruise II". It's not as silly as it sounds :-)
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1

Admiral A.J. Chegwidden looked up at the knock on his office door.  Gunny stepped inside a moment later, followed by a man the Admiral didn't know.  He was tall and thin, with sandy blond hair that fell in thin wisps to below his collar.  His eyes were pale and blue, their intensity hidden behind large framed glasses that were conspicuously ten years out of date. The man's dress was more casual than A.J. was used to seeing-- casual pants and a black t-shirt.  Most civilians dressed up when they came to visit an Admiral in the United States Navy.

Gunny came to attention.  "Admiral, Daniel Steiner is here to see you, sir."

So that was who he was.  A.J. fought to keep the revulsion off his face.  He did not stand to greet his guest.  "Thank you, Gunny."

Gunny left, and A.J. waved his visitor to the chairs fronting his desk.  "Please have a seat Mr. Steiner.  I'll be with you in a moment."  He returned his attention to the paperwork in front of him. He scribbled a few more lines before putting the papers aside.

When he looked up, he found Steiner slouched in his chair, watching him appraisingly.

"Now, Mr. Steiner, what can the Judge Advocate General's office do for you?"

Steiner's gaze didn't waver.  "Since your boss called me, I was expecting you'd already know."

Unfortunately, A.J. did.  The Navy needed some damage control and had come to him to make it happen.  The sheer humiliation of what his superiors were asking, however, made the orders hard to swallow.

Steiner rolled his head around, eliciting a loud pop from one of his vertebrae.  He grinned at the Admiral.  "So, do you have investigators for me or not?"

A.J. nodded reluctantly.  He touched his intercom.  "Lieutenant Tiner!  Tell Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie I want to see them asap."

"Which one's the woman?" Steiner wanted to know.

A.J. didn't answer.  A few moments later, the two officers walked in.  They came to attention in front of his desk, their gazes locked straight ahead, their faces impassive.  Neither one showed the least curiosity about the Admiral's visitor.  Anything less would have earned them a rebuke from their superior.

Steiner took one look at the pair and jumped to his feet.  "Wow.  Now _this_ I can work with."  He turned and walked off to Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie's side, studying her with avid, almost lascivious, interest.  "Sexbomb city."  He grinned at A.J.  "Slick the hair back and put her in a bikini… _baby_." He turned his attention to Commander Rabb.  "He's not bad either.  Tall, dark and handsome always goes over well.  Especially if there's a sixpack under that uniform." He gestured toward the commander's midriff.

A.J. fought to keep his face expressionless. The eyes of his two officers were rolling in anger and indignation, though neither one moved an inch.  

Finally, Steiner seemed to register the stiff attention of the officers.  He gave A.J. a quizzical look.  "How long are they just going to stand there like that?"

"Until I say otherwise," the Admiral answered.  Steiner could use a demonstration of military discipline.

Steiner remained doubtful.  "If you say so.  I really need to hear voices sometime, though.  I mean, I can work with the bodies.  No sweat there.  But, if the voices suck…"  He rolled his eyes.  "This is reality t.v.  We can't do voice-overs."

A.J. let it go for a little while longer.  The silence in his office grew heavy.  Finally, he looked at his officers.  "Be seated, Commander, Colonel."

Like statues come to life, the two took deep breaths in unison.  "Yes, sir." 

Then, ritual complete, they became the people A.J. knew as friends as well as subordinates.  The two settled in their chairs as Mac whipped around to stare venomously at Steiner. 

"Sir, who in the world is this-- this--" 

"Cretin?" Harm supplied mildly.

"_Cretin._"  Mac looked at A.J.  "And what business does he have with JAG?"

Steiner did not look the least put off by the insult.  He smiled ingratiatingly.  "I'm Daniel Steiner, executive producer of _Temptation Cruise_."

At their blank looks, his smile faded a notch.  "_Temptation Cruise_?  It's only _the_ highest rated show in prime time for the past season."  The blank stares didn't change.  Steiner became indignant.  "Don't you people watch t.v.?"

Harm and Mac looked at each other.  

"You don't mean that show where they stick a bunch of newlywed couples on a boat for six weeks and have the crew try to entice them into cheating on each other?" Harm asked.

Steiner beamed.  "That's the one." 

Mac stared aghast at the producer.  "How horrible!"

Harm's expression turned thoughtful.  He turned to the Admiral.  "This is about that rape case."

A.J. nodded, and the atmosphere in the office immediately turned businesslike.  "Yes.  A contestant on Mr. Steiner's t.v. show claimed she was raped by two of the ship's crew members to keep her and her husband from winning the million-dollar prize.  Unfortunately, both of the accused are Naval reservists."

"I suppose that explains JAG's interest," Mac said.  She eyed Steiner as if he were a particularly hideous variety of spider she'd spotted on her living room wall.  "Is the case going to be tried under military jurisdiction?"

A.J. shook his head.  "No.  It'll be tried in civilian court."

"So how are we involved, sir?"

A.J. steeled himself.  "The reservists claim they were acting on the instructions of the show's director, a Tony Ariel.  They agreed to… ahem, take advantage of the young lady, but deny the rape charge.  They say she was flirting heavily with both of them and that the incident was consensual."  He shrugged, uncomfortable.  "I don't need to tell you how much bad publicity this is generating for the Navy. But, if the reservists claim about Mr. Ariel is true, it could be useful as a means of deflecting the attention away from the U.S. military."

"Not to mention that it'll look good for you folks to have been involved in the investigation," added Steiner.

At the word "investigation", Harm and Mac exchanged worried looks.

"Sir, you aren't suggesting that Commander Rabb and I…?" Mac trailed off uncertainly.

A.J. nodded.  "Unfortunately, I am, Colonel.  You and Commander Rabb are going to go undercover to investigate the truth of these allegations about Mr. Ariel.  _Temptation Cruise II_ will begin filming in approximately three months.  You two will be contestants."  He paused.  "Providing Mr. Steiner approves, of course."

Steiner grinned his irritating grin.  "I like what I've seen so far."  He transferred his smile to Harm and Mac.  "All I need now is proof that these two can pass for newlyweds and I'll sign off."  

A.J. knew Steiner had been adamant in his refusal to let his show be "tainted" by the investigation of his director.  Though he professed to be furious over the possibility that Ariel had rigged the results of the show, he also insisted that only "real talent" be allowed onto the sequel, lest the ratings suffer.  It had taken quite a bit of pressure from high up in the Navy to gain his grudging agreement to "assess" the JAG investigators.  A.J. knew how important it could be to the Navy's reputation to be an integral part of this investigation.  He also knew he was putting his officers in a particularly difficult situation.  He folded his hands on the desk in front of him, projecting calm as best he could.

"What would satisfy you, Mr. Steiner?" he asked.

Steiner shrugged.  "A kiss, to start with.  Let's see if there's any kind of chemistry."  

Harm and Mac both stared at him, their gazes owlish.

Steiner's voice turned harsh.  "Well?  This is just a screen test.  If you can't do this, you'll never make it on the show."  He transferred his attention to Harm.  "Put some heat into it, Commander.  Forty million viewers are going to be dissecting every move you two make.  If you can't convince me, you'll never convince them."  He sat back, arms crossed.

After a moment, Harm shook himself out of his stupor and turned to A.J.  "Sir?"  His expression fell somewhere between bewildered and amused.

The Admiral spread his hands.  "This falls under the auspices of an undercover investigation, Commander.  Fraternization regs don't apply.  You have my permission."

A hint of mischief crept into the other man's eyes.  "Yes, sir."

Turning in his seat, Harm leaned across the distance separating him from Mac.  Smiling ever so slightly, he cupped her cheek in one hand and kissed her.  Rather thoroughly, A.J. thought.  Mac's fingers tightened on the arms of her chair until the knuckles turned white, but she sank into the kiss as if she'd never wanted anything else in her life.

Outside the unshuttered windows flanking the Admiral's door, the hubbub of the JAG office came to a standstill as the members of the staff turned to stare at the unprecedented sight.  A.J. bit his lip against a laugh as a pile of papers cascaded unnoticed out of Harriet's fingers.  Her mouth formed a perfect 'O' of surprise.

Sometime later, Harm and Mac separated.  Their eyes lingered on each other for a bare moment before Mac looked away, ducking her head with unusual shyness for the outspoken Marine.  

Harm cleared his throat, his discomfort well hidden.  "Good enough?" he asked Steiner.  A.J. admired the even, unconcerned air he projected.  Harm still carried his naval aviator's cool, which served him well both in and out of the courtroom.

Steiner applauded lightly.  "Bravo."  He smiled at the Admiral.  "They'll do."

Harm turned to A.J., his face impassive.  "Is that all, sir?"  The question carried a tremendous weight of disapproval in its stiffly formal tones.

A.J. turned the question over to his guest, who nodded.  

"I'll have my assistant send over all the paperwork and a rough draft of the schedule.  You'll be expected to make appearances with the rest of the contestants, as well as do the photo shoots and advance interviews," Steiner said.

A.J. noted that his officers looked like they'd rather be boiled in oil and decided to end the appointment as quickly as possible.  All the parties had agreed, so there was no point in prolonging their exposure to each other.  That only increased the risk of something going wrong.

The Admiral dismissed Harm and Mac.  Looking relieved, the two rose and came to attention before exiting the office.  A.J. saw them exchange eloquently helpless looks before each went to their own office.  Neither one acknowledged the curious stares of the other staff members.

All in all, A.J. pitied them.


	2. [2]

Chapter 2

Seated on the arm of his couch, Harm watched with amused sympathy as Mac paced the small confines of the living room.  He always enjoyed watching Mac when she got really riled about something.  Right now, she paced back and forth with frantic strides, her head down and her hands hooked into claws at her sides.  He wondered if she were envisioning throttling Daniel Steiner.  The occasional muttered comment he could hear seemed to point in that direction.

"Look at the bright side, Mac," he offered.  "We get to spend six weeks on a cruise ship in the Caribbean.  When would either of us ever get to take a six-week vacation?"

Mac paused to glare at him.  "Traitor."

Harm chuckled and held up his hands.  "Hey.  I don't like it, either.  I'm just trying to be positive."

"_You_ aren't the one he was mentally undressing."

Harm grinned.  "I wouldn't be so sure of that."

Mac ignored him.  "Have you watched any of the episodes yet?  The show is absolutely disgusting.  It's morally reprehensible, degrading to women, and-- and-- just plain tasteless!"  She stopped short to stare at Harm.  "Why aren't you upset about this assignment?  Don't tell me you actually want to be involved in this cockamamie scheme?"

"Not really, but I don't have much choice."  This time, there was no humor in his voice.  Mac could get very aggressive when she felt threatened, something he had little patience for.

Mac's tirade ended with a long-suffering sigh.  She reached up to massage her eyes.  "I know.  I'm sorry.  I'm just so angry…"

"Why, Mac?  Because it rubs salt in old wounds?"  It had been a while since Mic, since Renee, and since the near-miss conversation that might have changed their lives forever. 

She nodded without looking at him.  "That, and because I don't like the idea of pretending with you."  Her gaze darted to his, then away.  "We're best friends.  We're honest with each other.  That's important to me."

_And playing at being in love for the next few months is going to blur the lines beyond recognition._  He sighed.  He, too, feared their new assignment would only make things worse between them.

"Come here, Mac."  He held his arms open.

For a moment, he thought she might refuse. But then she came to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her cheek on his shoulder.  Harm held her close.

"We'll always be friends, Mac.  No matter what."

He could feel her smile against his shoulder.  "I'm going to hold you to that, sailor."

#

A few days later, Harm and Mac once again found themselves in the Admiral's office with Daniel Steiner and a tall, perky blond woman who reminded Harm just a bit too much of Renee for comfort.  She was Steiner's assistant, but other than handing out papers and distracting the male members of the JAG staff from their duties, she seemed to serve little purpose.

Harm scanned the sheets he'd been handed while keeping his ears tuned to the Admiral.

"Your cover identities will be modeled as much after reality as possible," Chegwidden was saying, "to avoid any possible mistakes or conflicts in your stories.  You, Commander, will be Harmon Ray, a partner at a small D.C. law firm.  The Colonel will be Sarah McPherson, also a partner at the same firm.  Your personal histories should remain as close to reality as possible, editing out all references to military service or undercover investigations."

            Mac looked up before Harm.  "_Mitchell, Bloomberg, Moore_?" she asked, noting the name of the law firm they supposedly worked for.  

Harm nodded to himself as the name registered in his memory.  "Isn't that where Commander Bailey went after he retired from JAG?"  Bailey had left JAG several years before Harm's arrival, but his exploits in the courtroom were still talked about.

The Admiral nodded.  "Yes. He's the senior partner there.  He has agreed to let us use his firm for a cover.  Your respective aliases will be on the books at MBM within the next few days."

Harm shot his partner a sideways glance, but her face remained impassive.  She was all business.  He tried to match her.  It was the safest choice.

Steiner sat forward, hands clasped together.  "These covers will play beautifully on the show, particularly with Tony."  He was a serious as Harm had yet seen.  "If he _is_ fixing the results-- and I'll personally rip his throat out if he is-- he'll be sure to pick some other couple to win."  The smarmy grin appeared for a moment.  "After all, who wants a couple of lawyers to get the prize?"

Before either litigator could respond, he went on.  "So, as long as you two can stay on the straight and narrow, he'll eventually be forced to take matters into his own hands to get you out of the running."

Harm stifled a groan.  The plan was sound, but that meant they had little hope of getting off the show before the entire six weeks were over.  

"So when does all this start?" he asked instead.

The blond assistant hopped up to hand each of them another piece of paper.

"Here's the tentative schedule," Steiner told them.  "The first real event will be the meet-the-other-contestants dinner in two weeks.  It's an informal affair-- no reporters or cameras allowed.  Besides ours, of course.  You'll both need to do a costume fitting in the next few days so wardrobe can have something for you by then.  And you'll have to have your contestant packets filled out by then as well."

The assistant plucked two thick document envelopes from the stack of papers beside her and held them out toward Harm and Mac.

"I'll take those," Admiral Chegwidden said, reaching across his desk.  The assistant handed them over.  "You two have more important things to do, like wrapping up your caseloads.  I'll get someone else to fill these out."  

Harm was still thinking about the dinner. A thought struck him.  "Should Mac wear an engagement ring?"

Mac turned to him in surprise as Steiner frowned.  "We don't provide rings and such, assuming all of our couples intended to get married anyway.  You'll have to take care of that yourselves."

Mac smoothed her skirt, a nervous gesture.  "That's all right.  I… have a ring I can use."

Harm winced.  He couldn't help it.  If Mac noticed, she gave no sign, and Harm was forced to wonder once more if she had really gotten over Brumby.  After all, he'd left her, not the other way around.

Steiner continued, giving no indication that he'd noticed Harm's reaction.  "Going back to the schedule…  After the dinner comes the early photo shoots-- _People, Cosmo, _and_ Teen Beat_ all want spreads to go with their articles.  _Cosmo_ also wants one of the ladies for their cover, though they won't decide who until after the first shoot." He winked at Mac.  "I'd say you're probably going to be in the running, Colonel."

"_What?_  Me?" 

Harm pushed his thoughts aside and studied his partner.  Was that a flush creeping up her cheeks?  Mac didn't blush easily.

Steiner didn't pause.  "The television spots won't happen until later, after the advertising campaign really kicks in.  You'll do the filming for the ads sometime early next month, but the _Tonight Show_ and _Letterman_ spots won't happen until a week or two before you board."

Harm's thoughts had begun to spin. He wondered if he looked as dazed as he felt.  It was Mac, however, that best expressed his sentiments.  She looked imploringly at the Admiral. 

"Sir, you realize that after this, no one is _ever_ going to take us seriously again."


	3. [3]

Chapter 3

"I can't believe you two are going to be on t.v."  Harriet split her grin between Harm and Mac.  "It's kind of exciting."

"For them, maybe," Bud said with a grimace.  "Commander Sturgis and I are the ones who get to pick up their caseloads."  He indicated the commander with a wave of his coffee cup.

Sturgis only shrugged, his familiar, laconic smile in place.  "Oh, I don't mind so much, Lieutenant."  He shot Harm a sly look.  "It'll be well worth it to watch these two making fools of themselves."

"Gee, thanks, Sturg."  Harm rolled his eyes.  

The five JAG officers were gathered around the coffee machine in the common morning ritual.  Mac stood with her coworkers but felt worlds removed from the lighthearted banter.  She could understand the others' teasing, but not Harm's easy acceptance of it all.  How could he take it so lightly?  Didn't this assignment jangle that raw nerve running through their relationship? 

"Commander, that's not very nice," Harriet scolded Sturgis.  Mac snapped back to the present.

Sturgis grinned hugely.  "Maybe so, Lieutenant, but I'm not the one who volunteered to host the _Temptation Cruise_ parties at my house, either."

Harriet blushed scarlet.  Harm laughed.  "He's got you there," he told Harriet.

Angered and quietly humiliated by the exchange, Mac turned away.  She headed toward her office with brisk strides.

"Mac?" Harm asked from behind her.  She could hear the sudden concern in his voice.

"I have work to do," she told him without turning.

#

"What was that about?" Sturgis asked as Mac walked into her office and shut the door.

Harm sighed resignedly.  "She's a little upset about this assignment.  I can't say that I blame her."

"Hmm."  Sturgis met Harm's eyes, his gaze piercing.  "That wouldn't have anything to do with this thing between you two, would it?"

Harm was vaguely aware of Bud and Harriet exchanging uncomfortable looks, but most of his attention was riveted to his friend.

"There is no 'thing' between us, Sturg."  Harm sometimes wondered if it was bitterness or relief he felt every time he made the protest.  "We're just friends."

Sturgis gave him an enigmatic smile.  "Maybe that's why she's so upset about the assignment."  He raised his coffee mug in salute and turned away.

Harm could only shake his head.  

"Sir," Harriet said after a moment, her voice uncertain.  "I'm not in any position to comment on your relationship with Colonel MacKenzie…"

Harm raised an eyebrow, smiling despite himself.  "But…?"

Harriet dropped her gaze, abashed.  Then she raised her head, her expression determined.  "_But_, sir, she does seem to be taking this all very seriously."  She made a vague gesture.  "The rest of us are making a joke out of it because it's almost too absurd to believe, but Colonel MacKenzie doesn't take jokes very well.  At least, not when they're on her."

Harm inclined his head, impressed by her assessment.  "That's pretty insightful, Harriet.  Thanks.  I'll have to keep it in mind."

Harriet's smile lit her face.  "You're welcome, sir."

#

Mac looked up with some trepidation when Harm walked into her office.  He dropped into a chair, squirming to find a comfortable position.  The standard hard wood chairs had not been designed to fit Harm's six plus feet. 

He gave her a cheerful smile.  "How's it going, dear?"

Mac blinked at him.  "Did you just call me _dear_?"

The blue eyes twinkled mischievously.  "Would you prefer 'honey'? Sweetie? Sugar?"

Mac rested her elbows on her desk and held her pen in both hands, staring at him over the top.  "Harm, what is going on?"

"I'm trying to come up with a pet name for you."  His grin was utterly guileless.  "Couples have special names for each other, right? It occurred to me that we ought to be getting some of these little details organized.  So, what would you like?  Babe? Sweetums?"

"Oh, please."  Mac knew he was turning on that little boy charm to try to cajole her out of being mad.  Unfortunately, it was working.  "You're crazy, you know."

He slouched a little further in the too-small chair.  "Mac, the only way we're going to survive this assignment without going stark, raving mad is to laugh our way through it."  Those blue eyes bored into her, deep and serious.  But then the glint of humor returned.  "How about 'Snookers'?  Sugar plum?  Poopsie?"

"_Poopsie_?"  A chuckle escaped her.  "Be glad I'm not armed, sailor."  She had to admit he had a point.  It was kind of funny, if you looked at it a certain way.  And ignored the dull, constant heartache, of course.

Taking a deep breath, Mac decided to join in on the fun.  "Do I get to pick a name for you, too?"

Harm shrugged.  "Sure.  You're still not giving me any clues here, though.  How does 'Shortcake' grab you?"

"I could call you Stud Muffin."  

His grin deepened.  "Boo Boo?"

"Rocketman."

"Babelicious?"

"Honey Bucket of _Luv_."

Harm burst out laughing.  Mac joined him.

"O.k.  Maybe the pet name idea wasn't such a good one," Harm admitted as he climbed to his feet.  "But at least I got you to laugh."

 Mac accepted that with as much grace as she could muster.  "That you did."  Her intrinsic honesty wouldn't let her leave it at that.  "Thanks," she added.

"You're welcome."  Harm turned toward the door.  "Well, see you later, lovebug."

"_Harm!_"

He walk out of the office, chortling.  Tossing her pen down on the desk in front of her, Mac sank back into her chair, grinning and shaking her head.


	4. [4]

Chapter 4

Harm and Mac went to the wardrobe fitting together.  Dressed in civilian business attire as if they'd just come from the office, they approached the nondescript building with an equal sense of unease.  It was Showtime.  Well, at least the dress rehearsal.

Mac paused a few feet from the car and looked at her partner.  "Do you think we should hold hands?"

She was gratified to see that Harm looked as uncomfortable as she felt.  "Yeah, probably."  He offered his hand with a lopsided smile.  Mac took it, then tried to keep her reaction from showing as his fingers twined with hers.  It wasn't as if she'd never held his hand before.  But this wasn't a friend offering affection and support.  This was a possessive gesture that said, _We're together_.

They had only taken a couple of steps before they discovered a problem.  Mac's hand had ended up in front. With the difference in their heights it made for an uncomfortable and unwieldy arrangement.  They had to pause to rearrange, which, with the current level of nervousness turned out to be more difficult than they might have imagined.

"Here, Mac, like this."

"No, my hand needs to be on the other--"

"If you do that, we're going to be back where we started."

"No we're not."

"See, like this--"

"Ow!"

"Sorry."

They finally got it straightened out.

"A couple of twelve-year-olds could have done this better," Mac growled as they once again set off toward the building.  

Harm released her to open the door, then held it for her to enter.  It was a common courtesy in the military, one that Mac rarely noticed.

The woman waiting just inside, however, did.  "I see there are still some true gentlemen in the world," she commented as they entered.  She was an inch or two taller than Mac, a stunning beauty with dark hair and skin, and an exotic lilt to her words.  She smiled blindingly at Harm, who returned the smile with one of his own.

Mac quickly slipped her hand back into Harm's.  "We're here for the one o'clock fitting," she said, meeting the woman's eyes and holding them.

Smiling faintly, the woman nodded.  "You must be Mr. Ray and Ms. McPherson.  Hi, I'm Selena." She shook hands with each of them.  "I'll be your coordinator for the duration of the show.  My job is to guide through each step of the production process. If you need anything, let me know. I will be available at any time to answer questions."  She paused for a moment, but when neither of them spoke, she continued, "Now, if you'll both come with me, I'll take you back to the studio."

Mac and Harm fell in behind Selena as she led them through a set of glass doors and into a business area.  Offices sprouted to either side of the hall, which was painted in odd shades of green.  Beyond the offices, they emerged into a large room divided up by movable partitions and curtains.  Mac spotted several tall mirrors in rolling frames as well as what looked like a huge auto mechanic's tool box piled high with sewing paraphernalia.  

A man and a woman waited for them.  The man could have leapt from the pages of GQ, Mac thought.  He was of middle height, slender, and dressed all in black.  His hair was cut short, dyed blond, and stuck out stylishly in all directions.  He even wore a nose ring in addition to multiple earrings.

"Mr. Ray, this is Toby, your fashion consultant."  Selena introduced the man, who grinned and waved.

She turned to the woman. "This is Ellen.  Ellen, meet Ms. McPherson."  Ellen was Toby's opposite in every way.  Short, frumpy and middle-aged, she gave Mac a motherly smile as Selena introduced them. 

"I'll trade with you," Harm murmured to Mac as they finished the necessary pleasantries.  "I'd feel a lot safer with yours."

Mac grinned at him.  "Wimp."

Then her humor died.  The two fashion consultants obviously expected the couple to split and accompany each of them to different parts of the room.  Mac looked up at Harm, her stomach knotting.  A parting kiss was in order, wasn't it?

Harm seemed to be thinking the same thing.  He bent toward her.

Mind racing, Mac tried to meet him.  Unfortunately, she turned her head the same direction as his and they nearly collided.

"Oops."

"Uh…"

They both back off and tried to reorient themselves.  _We must look like fools._  Mac felt a flush of warmth rising in her cheeks. 

"Let's try that again…"

After a couple of jerky false starts, they managed a passable kiss.

"I think we're going to have to practice if we're going to pull this off," Harm muttered into her hair as they separated.  Mac had to agree, frightening as the thought was.

They parted ways with a sense of relief.  Mac followed Ellen into a little cubby surrounded by curtains.  There were no chairs, so she stood near the center of the space, arms crossed.

Ellen busied herself at a smaller wheeled toolbox like the one Mac had seen, but eventually she turned.

"Nervous, dearie?"

Mac dropped her hands to her sides self-consciously.  "Yeah.  I guess.  And my name's Sarah."

Ellen walked over to her, trailing an armful of cloth and measuring tape.  "Well, Sarah, you don't have anything to worry about.  You're quite beautiful.  We're just going to give you a wardrobe to do justice to that lovely face."

Mac stared at her, bemused.  "O.k."  She hadn't had many women tell her she was beautiful.  

Ellen took Mac by the elbow and steered her to a spot on the floor.  "Now, take off those shoes and stand straight for me, feet together."

Mac did so, settling into the attention position her body was familiar with.

Ellen bustled about, taking measurements.  "You have very good posture, Sarah."  She poked Mac gently between the shoulder blades.  "Relax a little, dearie.  You're not a soldier."

Mac bit her lip against a smile and wondered how Harm was fairing.

#

Toby, Harm soon discovered, chattered incessantly as he worked.

"So, how long have you two known each other?" Toby asked at the end of a string of bland personal questions.

"Oh, about eight years."  Harm kept his voice casual and tried not to fidget.  He was _not_ ready to be grilled about their cover story.

"And it took this long to tie the knot?"  Toby knelt to measure Harm's inseam.

"We work together."  Harm wondered if the Admiral had any idea what kind of torture he was putting his officers through.  "It's kind of complicated."

"I noticed she's not wearing a ring."

_Uh oh._  Harm scrambled for an answer.  "Well, this cruise thing came up a little unexpectedly--" He decided he had to qualify the statement.  "I mean, we didn't really expect to get picked."

Toby whipped through another set of measurements.  Harm didn't understand how he could possibly get accurate information at that speed.  "So you haven't really popped the question yet."

Harm was becoming more uncomfortable by the moment.  "Uh, no.  Not exactly."  _We are _really_ going to have to get on this.  The contestants' dinner is only a week away!_  He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to stand seeing Mac wear Brumby's ring all the time, though.

Toby grinned at him.  "Well, better get on it.  Just 'cause she knows she's gonna say yes doesn't mean she won't want the full production."

Harm stared into the distance an idea bloomed in his mind.  Mac might very well kill him, but… He chuckled to himself.  Why not?  This wasn't reality.  What did he have to lose?

He nodded.  "Thanks, Toby."

"Sure thing, man."  

#

When they returned to the car, Harm and Mac simply sat for a moment, each staring straight ahead, lost in their own thoughts.

"This is going to be harder than I thought," Harm commented after a while.

Mac didn't dare turn to look at his face.  "Yeah," she agreed.  

There was an awkward silence.

"You're right about practice," Mac said finally.  "I hadn't realized how many little details people work out when they're in a relationship together."

"Like how to hold hands?" Harm shot her a sly smile.

"And how to kiss."  Mac returned the shot.  Their eyes met and held, filled with mutual understanding.  They could both feel compassion for the difficult position the other was in.

Taking a deep breath, Mac forged ahead.  "As you know, we're supposed to have dinner with Bud and Harriet tonight."  It was something they did regularly, as much to spend time with little A.J. as anything else.

"Uh huh."

"It would be a good opportunity to… you know… practice."

The mischievous twinkle had returned to Harm's eyes.  "Uh huh."

"Anyway, I'm sure Bud and Harriet will understand.  They're not the teasing type.  In fact, since they're married, they might be able to give us some pointers.  I think--"

"Mac."  Harm cut her off.

"What?"  

His smile was gentle.  "It's o.k."

Mac gave him an odd look.  He was being reassuring, which made her nervous when she didn't know why.  "Of course it's o.k.  Why wouldn't it be?"

Harm just chuckled.  "Pick you up at six?"

#

The first thing Bud Roberts noticed when he opened his front door was the arm Commander Rabb had companionably draped across Colonel MacKenzie's shoulders.  The commander grinned cheerfully.

"Good evening, Bud."

Covering his surprise, Bud took a step back to let them in.  "Good evening, sir, ma'am.  Come in."

"We're not in uniform, Bud."

"I know, sir."

Colonel MacKenzie walked into the house first, her hands raised.  "O.k., before this evening goes any further, we're going to have to apologize for our bizarre behavior."

"Ma'am?" Bud asked.

The Colonel didn't reply as a tiny dervish raced up and threw himself into her arms.  "Auntie Mac!"  She swept him up in a hug.

Bud mentally shook his head.  No matter how many times they told him the Colonel's name was Sarah, he still called her Mac.  But then, Harm called her Mac, which was all the reason A.J. needed.

"Hey, sport!"  Harm tossed A.J. into the air when it was his turn to greet the little boy.  A.J. giggled wildly as Harm set him down.

"Come play airp'anes wit' me!"  A.J. held the commander's big hand in both of his and tried to drag him bodily toward the back of the house.

"Later, sport," Harm promised with a smile.  Bud took the hint and shooed his son off to play on his own for a while.

"Bizarre behavior, ma'am?" he asked once A.J. was gone.

As if in response, Commander Rabb stepped up behind Colonel MacKenzie, slipping both arms around her waist.  After a moment, she crossed her arms over his, fingers curling around his forearms.  Her expression dared Bud to state the obvious.

Bud stared at them for a moment as his whirling thoughts coalesced.  "Uh, since I know neither one of you would _ever_ violate regulations, I suppose there's another explanation?" Bud was proud of himself for managing that with straight face.

Commander Rabb chuckled.  "Yep.  It's called an undercover investigation that Mac and I both need some practice getting into character for."

Harriet came around the corner from the kitchen just then, wiping her hands on a towel.  "Hello, Commander, Colonel."  She took one good look at them and came to an abrupt halt.  "Oh!"

"Hi, Harriet," the two said in unison. Commander Rabb quickly repeated his explanation.

Harriet took it all in stride, which was one of the reasons Bud loved her so much.  "Well," she said thoughtfully, "We'd be happy to help in any way we can, of course.  I'll do my best to provide constructive feedback, and I'm sure Bud will, too."

Bud wasn't so sure he liked that idea, but didn't contradict her. 

"Do you want to help me in the kitchen, Colonel?" Harriet inclined her head that direction.

The colonel smiled.  "Only if you call me Sarah."

Harriet grinned.  "Yes, ma'am."

It was a little disconcerting to watch Colonel MacKenzie reach up to kiss the commander on the cheek before she went off with Harriet.  Nonetheless, Commander Rabb looked like he enjoyed it.  His gaze followed her as she walked away, lingering long after she'd disappeared around the corner.

"Beer, sir?"  Bud was totally willing to avoid the topic of Colonel MacKenzie and any relationship the two might have.  One, it wasn't any of his business, and two, what he didn't know he could never be forced to testify about.

"My name is Harm, Bud."

Bud grinned.  "Yes, sir.  I'll be right back with that beer, sir.  Make yourself comfortable."

Harm's resigned sigh followed him out of the room.  

When he returned, the two men talked of inconsequential things until Harriet called them to dinner.  Even that passed uneventfully, with little sign of roleplaying between the two JAG officers.

Later, however, while Bud was in the kitchen slicing the pie, Harriet stuck her head around the corner and held a finger to her lips.  "Honey, you've just got to see this," she whispered, crooking her finger at him.

Curious, Bud followed her out to the edge of the hall leading into the living room.  Grinning impishly, Harriet pointed in the proper direction then made room for Bud to peek around the corner.  She joined him as he did so, leaning against his shoulder to peer around with him.

Bud had to smile.  Commander Rabb was sitting in the easy chair with Colonel MacKenzie perched comfortably on his knee.  She held their wineglasses and watched with a tolerant smile as the commander played at dogfighting with A.J.  The toy airplanes whirled and dove across the broad arm of the chair.  From the volume of shooting noises and explosions, Bud could tell the battle had been going on for a while.  A.J. always got louder over time.

"Aren't they adorable?" Harriet whispered to him as they crept back toward the kitchen.  At his nod, her expression turned mournful.  "I really wish there was something we could do to help. They're so perfect for each other."

"There is."  Bud decided he needed to nip this one early.  "We can help by _not _interfering."

"Aw," Harriet gave him her trademarked pout.  "Where's the fun in that?"

"Harriet--"

"I know, Bud.  I know."  She sighed, squaring her shoulders.  "Well, maybe they'll stumble into it anyway.  They've still got a long way to go."


	5. [5]

Chapter 5

Mac walked into the office Thursday morning feeling better than she had in a while.  After what had turned out to be a very nice dinner with Bud and Harriet and a couple of days later a "date" with Harm that had involved a movie and lot of light-hearted PDA, she was beginning to think they just might make it through the ordeal unscathed.  Harm was right.  All they had to do was to not take it all too seriously.

To her surprise, she noted a bouquet of pink roses on Gunnery Sergeant Galindez's desk. Galindez was bent over some paperwork, oblivious to her approach.

"Nice roses, Gunny."

He looked up with a start, then stood.  "Good morning, Colonel.  Actually, the roses are for you.  They arrived about ten minutes ago."

Mac tried to hide her sudden burst of excitement.  "Really?  I wonder who they're from."  She took a second look at the bouquet.  There were a dozen long stemmed pink roses, professionally displayed with bits of fern and baby's breath.  The vase was tied with pink bow.  It was a little… _girly_ for Mac's taste.  But it was nice.

"There's a card, ma'am."  Gunny picked the vase up carefully.  "I'll carry them into your office if you'd like."

Since her arms were already full, Mac nodded.  "Thank you, Gunny."

Once Mac was alone in her office, she plucked the card from its plastic holder.  With eager fingers she opened the envelope and extracted the card.   The plain piece of paper had nothing on it but the letter 'A'.

"A?"  Mac looked around the office in consternation.  "Who the heck is A?"

#

On her way back from the coffee station, Mac ran into Gunny.  He was holding a bouquet of yellow roses in a vase.  Mac stopped in her tracks.

"You're kidding.  For me?"

He nodded.  "Yes, ma'am.  I'll put them in your office."

Mac trailed him, intensely curious.  This time she didn't wait for privacy before opening the card.  She noted absently that it had been sent from a different florist than the pinks.   On the card was written a letter 'M'.

Once again Mac looked around her office as if she might find the answer written on the walls.  "What in the world?"

#

By the time the third bouquet arrived, word of her roses had spread, so Mac had an audience when she opened the card.  These had come from a third florist.  This dozen were a pale lavender, interspersed with tiny yellow flowers.  Mac took a deep breath of their sweet scent to ward off the excited queasiness in her stomach before opening the card.

It was an 'R'.

Sturgis grinned at her.  "Well, if the next one's an 'H' we'll know who the culprit is."

Mac just looked at him.  "Why in the world would Commander Rabb send me three-- excuse me-- four dozen roses?"

Sturgis shrugged.  

"Where is the commander, anyway?" Admiral Chegwidden wanted to know.

"In court, sir." Mac added the 'R' to the other two cards lying on her desk.  The purple roses she gave the preeminent place on the corner of the desk and moved the yellow ones off to a filing cabinet.  "He won't be back until this afternoon sometime."

Harriet spent a few moments sniffing the new roses.  "Mmmm, those really smell great, Colonel."

"Maybe you have a secret admirer," Bud suggested.

Mac put her hands on her hips.  "Well, whatever it is, I'm not going to get anything done with all of you hovering around here."  She grinned to soften the words.

Her coworkers slowly filed out.  Shaking her head at the strangeness of the day, Mac sat down and tried to work.

#

_Oh please, oh please, oh please let this be an 'H'._  Mac stared at the new floral card in her hands.  The fourth dozen roses, their petals striped in a brilliant mixture of red and yellow, sat on Gunny's desk.  Mac had been too impatient to wait until she got to her office.

Without thought for how she might appear to her coworkers, she ripped open the envelope and yanked out the card.

"_'L'_?"  

"Ma'am?" Gunny watched her with an expression of concern.

Mac stared at the piece of paper in her hands, unable to immediately reconcile what was written with what she'd been expecting.  "It's an 'L'."  The words came out as a protest.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, that blows that theory," Sturgis commented as he walked by.  Mac had to throttle the sudden desire to hit him.  Shaking her head, she collected the roses and headed back to her office.

#

When Mac got back from her midmorning meeting with a client, she found four more rose bouquets sitting on Gunny's desk.  They were orange, peach, cream and a very dark pink, respectively.  Gunny stood a short ways from his desk, working on paperwork that lay scattered across the top of a filing cabinet as if he had given up trying to share space with the flowers.

Mac just stared, mouth agape.  

"This is getting ridiculous!" she exclaimed when she had recovered her voice.  Harriet looked up at her, as did Gunny.  

Lieutenant Tiner nodded in greeting as he passed. "There are two more in your office, ma'am," he said.

"Do you want some help moving those, ma'am?"  Harriet stood.

It was so crazy Mac wanted to laugh.  "Uh… yes, please."  She scooped up a random vase and headed for her office, leaving Harriet and Galindez to follow.

The Admiral appeared at the door before they'd managed to find spaces for the now ten dozen roses.  Mac's office had begun to resemble a flower shop.  

"Colonel, what is going on here?"

Mac raised her hands helplessly.  "Sir, I wish I knew.  They just keep coming."

"You're disrupting the operation of this office and tying up important personnel who have jobs to do."  He glared at Gunny for a moment.

"I'm sorry, sir."  Mac stared at the forest of blooms surrounding her.  "I don't know what to say.  It'll have to stop soon."

"It _is_ pretty extravagant for a practical joke, sir," Harriet chimed in.

"Not to mention expensive.  Sir," added Gunny, rubbing his thumb and forefingers together.  Mac had been trying not to think of how many hundreds of dollars worth of roses she now possessed.

The Admiral seemed only partially mollified.  "See that it does, Colonel," he told her with a no-nonsense glower.

"Yes, sir."

Chegwidden returned to his office. Gunny also left. 

Mac pounced on the new cards.  "I can't believe this is happening."  She opened them, laying each one out on her desk beside the others.  "Let's see… 'R', 'U', 'O', another 'L', 'W', and an 'E'.  I feel like I'm playing Scrabble."

Harriet laughed, her eyes full of gentleness and humor.  "I think it's wonderful."

Mac grinned back at her.  "Thanks, Harriet.  Me, too.  I just wish I knew who they were _from_."

#

By midafternoon Mac had fifteen cards of varying shapes and sizes laid out on her desk.  All were letters save one, which bore a question mark instead.  She had placed them in a line with the question mark at the end, assuming the letters could be unscrambled into something that made sense.  At the moment, she had:

A R M L O U R W E M Y L I Y ?

She was getting nowhere.  The stunning bouquets of roses-- no two alike-- covered every available inch of her office, creating a montage of color.  Mac had given up on work entirely, and was arranging and rearranging the letters on her desk in the hopes of answering the question that totally preoccupied her.

She didn't bother to look up when someone entered her office.  In her peripheral vision she registered a pair of Navy white pants coming to a stop in front of her desk, but was too engrossed to notice beyond that.

"Wow, it smells great in here."  Harm's voice snapped her back to reality with a painful jolt.  She jerked her head upward to look at him.  He leaned over the desk, hands holding his cover behind his back, and studied the row of letters.  His expression was a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

"Hi, Mac."  The blue eyes met hers.  "Looks like you've been having an interesting day."

"You could say that."  Mac leaned back in her chair.  "How was court?"

Harm shrugged.  "I do my closing argument tomorrow."  He turned his attention back to the letters.

Mac was a little surprised when he reached down with one hand to slide one of the cards out of its position, shuffling it to another spot further down the line.  She looked at his face and found it intent.  He moved another card.

Mac watched him in fascination.  "I swear, Commander, if you've figured this out after looking at it for twenty seconds, I'm going to strangle you.  I've been staring at these things for an hour!"

Harm grinned at her but said nothing.  He continued rearranging the letters.  ME emerged at the end of the row, WILL at the beginning.

Mac didn't get it until he'd put the very last letter in place.  

The cards read:

W I L L  Y O U  M A R R Y  M E ?

Mac shoved herself to her feet with a gasp. She backed away from Harm, staring at him in utter shock.  Her mouth moved as she tried to say something-- _anything_-- but no sound emerged.

Harm watched her reaction mildly.  His smile was the epitome of innocence.  "It occurred to me at some point that we really needed to have an engagement story," he said as if it were the most normal thing in the world.  "We could have just sat down and made something up, but I figured this way, we'll both be able to keep the details straight."  From behind his back he brought out, not his cover, but a single long stemmed red rose and a small black velvet box, which he gently laid on the blotter in front of Mac.  Only at the point did she notice that there were no other red roses in the room.

Mac started to tremble as she approached the desk.  She still couldn't speak as she picked up the little box and opened it.  Inside was a plain, beautiful solitaire diamond ring. 

"So, Mac, will you marry me?"  The blue eyes danced.

Mac shook her head in denial, though of what she wasn't sure.  Her chest felt like it might explode at any moment.  "Harm, this is-- you didn't-- I mean, this is a lot of money for…" _For something that isn't real. _She trailed off, afraid to put that last into words.

His smile dimmed, turned bittersweet.  "Don't worry, Mac.  It's borrowed. Well, sort of."

"Sort of?"  

"It's nothing you need to worry about."

They stared at each other for a long, silent moment.  Under other circumstances, Mac would have demanded some kind of explanation for such a high-handed statement.  Right now, however, she was doing well just to keep breathing. 

_Suck it up, Marine!_ she barked at herself.  _This man went to a lot of trouble to help solidify our cover stories.  And maybe, just maybe, because he thought you'd enjoy it, too._  The thought sapped her building desire to rant at Harm.

As if waking from a dream, Mac took the ring from its black case.  She studied it for a moment in the light.  The gold band glowed, warm and buttery, as she turned it.  The edges of the band had been worn smooth, she noted in surprise.  It had seen years of use, perhaps years of love.  She hoped so.

_Don't take this game for more than it is.  Play along.  Have fun.  _Mac had to admit she'd really enjoyed all the excitement and attention.  She looked up at Harm and summoned a smile.  

"Yes, I would love to marry you." Feeling a bit self-conscious, Mac slipped the ring onto her finger.  It fit beautifully.

Harm wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead with an extravagant gesture.  "Phew.  You had me worried for a minute there."  To Mac's relief he seemed willing to let the intensely personal moment slip away.  "It's no wonder men don't like to commit."  His grin was teasing.  "Talk about an intimidating situation!"

Mac rolled her eyes and the tension between them eased.  Her heart rate began to slow.  

She picked up the red rose and sniffed it, her eyes on Harm.  "You know, this is a side of you I've never seen."  
            He raised an eyebrow.

"The whole romantic gesture thing."  Mac gave him a teasing grin.  "No wonder women go wild over you."

She managed to embarrass him. He ducked his head briefly.  

Mac let her breath out in a gusty sigh.  "It's kind of a shame to have wasted all this on me, really."

Harm's brows dipped, but then the brief, injured expression was replaced by a sly smile.  "Oh, I don't know.  You should have seen your face, Mac."  

Mac pretended not to see the flash of pain.  There was no place for it in this game they were playing.  Instead, she stayed with the banter, where it was safe.

"Well, I must say you certainly surprised me, flyboy.  But pleasantly."  She smiled at him.  "Whatever possessed you to send me all these roses?"

The boyish grin came back.  "We did meet in a rose garden."  He shrugged.  "It was kind of short notice to get permission to go back there."

Mac laughed, a little overwhelmed by the implications.  No, it wouldn't be easy to get into the White House Rose Garden.  She wondered if Harm had tried anyway.  Knowing him and the kinds of friends he had, probably.  

She sighed.  "Thank you, Harm."  His attention frightened her, but at the same time filled her with warmth and a strange joy.  She couldn't bear the thought that he might walk away disappointed by the day.  "This is wonderful."  To her mortification, tears formed in her eyes.  She wiped them away impatiently, but not before Harm had noticed.  She saw him twitch, as if only an effort of will kept him from coming around the desk to comfort her despite the uniforms they wore. 

"You're welcome," he said instead.  

Mac smiled, but secretly she wished he would have done it anyway.


	6. [6]

Chapter 6

A.J. forgot about the _Temptation Cruise_ paperwork until it was almost too late.  Early Friday afternoon, he uncovered the thick packets from the pile in his inbox.  He stared at them in dismay before jumping to his feet and striding from the office.

"Lieutenant!"  

Harriet looked up at him in surprise as he approached her desk.  She hopped to her feet.  "Yes, sir."

"Drop what you're doing and take care of these.  They need to be couriered to Daniel Steiner's office before close of business today."

Harriet accepted the envelopes.  "Yes, sir."

A.J. went back to his office.  After Commander Rabb's stunt the day before, he was more reluctant than ever to let this undercover investigation continue.  Not that he would mind seeing the two of them together, especially if it turned out to be permanent, but he was very afraid the episode would accomplish nothing more than to wreck a very capable partnership and hurt two people he cared for.

#

Organized soul that she was, Harriet set out to collect all the information she'd need from Commander Rabb and Colonel McKenzie before she sat down to fill out the paperwork. 

The Commander answered her questions with his usual tolerance, eyes glinting with humor.  To Harriet he seemed like a loving older brother, the kind that snuck you out of the house to go see a late movie and took you to your first dance to make sure the boys knew how you were supposed to be treated. 

That image didn't entirely mesh with the fact that the Commander was also a fierce warrior who could strap on a Tomcat to do battle in an arena that had little margin for either error or mercy.  That he could-- and, in fact, had-- killed in defense of his life, his friends, and his country made Harriet uncomfortable.  But only a little, she amended.

Harriet thanked the Commander and left, crossing the bullpen to Colonel MacKenzie's office. The Colonel answered her questions with brusque efficiency, as if that would keep Harriet from seeing how unnerved she was.  It didn't, of course, and Harriet could see the knowledge reflected in the Colonel's eloquent brown eyes though neither of them acknowledged the fact.

She was a strange mix of strength and weakness, Harriet thought.  On one hand, the Colonel was one of the toughest women she'd ever met. Hard, to some degree, but also courageous, strong, and passionate. On the other hand, she was also one of the most insecure women Harriet knew.  Harriet often wondered if there was anyone the Colonel trusted completely.  She didn't think so, and it was sad to watch her build up walls to keep out the people who cared most for her.

_Well listen to me, the closet psychologist,_ Harriet scolded herself as she left.  The relationship between the two wasn't really any of her business, despite the fact that they were both dear friends… and the godparents to her only child… and totally hopeless when it came to matters of the heart.  

On the heels of that thought, Harriet headed back to her desk and the mound of papers she had approximately forty minutes to complete.  Her fingers flew across the typewriter keyboard, a machine that only she and the Admiral knew how to use with anything approaching competence.  She blazed through the forms, occasionally checking her notes as she went.  In the back of her mind, some small portion of her continued to muse on the plight of her friends.

Harriet finished with not a moment to spare. She bundled up the paperwork, slipped it all into an envelope with Mr. Steiner's name and address on it, then placed that envelope inside the special courier envelope which she gave to the waiting petty officer who would deliver it.  

Satisfied that her task was complete, she brushed her hands together and turned back to her desk, unaware she had made one fundamental mistake. 

#

Early Saturday morning, Daniel Steiner was in his office, going over the vast array of preparations that had been made for the contestants' dinner that night.  That would be his first real chance to observe the couples and to make his initial evaluation of how to target each one.  The bios only told him so much.  Steiner was a genius at identifying weaknesses, a talent he exploited ruthlessly for his own benefit and that of his show.  

Most of the soon-to-be newlyweds were mundane, shallow.  Already, he was certain he knew where his star power would come from: The Andersons-- a couple of college kids too young and idealistic to be swayed by most temptations, but, luckily, also young enough to still be naïve.  They would be the cute couple, the ones everyone wanted to see win.  The Crossby/Esperanza pair would be the Andersons' antithesis. Viciously independent and aggressive, the two could succeed out of pure determination.  They would not be motivated by love, but they would be hard to take down without careful groundwork.  And then there were his military investigators-- the wildcards.  Not only did they up the gorgeous quotient substantially, but there were some truly delicious undercurrents there that Steiner intended to exploit to the full.  Not to mention that they, of all the contestants, would have an agenda other than winning the prize, something the audience would quickly pick up on if given sufficient exposure.  Even if it turned out that Ariel was guilty, that, too, he could spin into the show.

He grinned.  _TC II_ might top the original ratings if he worked things right.

Steiner's assistant came in and laid a sheet of paper on the desk in front of him.  "You wanted to see the press release before it went out."

Steiner picked up the paper and scanned it.  Two names jumped out at him, eliciting a smile that quickly widened as he realized the possibilities.  No, they couldn't have made such a basic mistake, could they?  It had to have been his own people…

"Lisa, get the paperwork the Navy sent us," he told the assistant, unable to hide his excitement.

She hurried off only to return a few minutes later with the appropriate folder.  Steiner grabbed it and flipped it open.  He began to chuckle.

"Oh, this is rich.  We are going to make a fortune."  He stopped and thought for a moment.  There was the chance they'd use the excuse to back out.  But no, the Navy needed its good press too badly.  The specter of Tailhook still haunted them.   

Smirking, he double-checked the press release, then handed it to Lisa.  "Looks good.  Send it out."

#

Harm and Mac pulled into the parking lot outside JAG headquarters at roughly the same time.  

"Did you get called in, too?" Harm asked as Mac joined him on the curb.

She nodded, her brow creased with concerned.  "If we're both being called in at 1430 on a Saturday, it has to be something serious."

Harm grinned at her.  "Look at the bright side. Maybe we won't have to go to this dinner thing tonight."

Mac chuckled.  "We can only hope."

They went inside.  The Admiral was waiting for them in his office.

"Sit down, both of you," he said, waving them to their customary seats.  His expression was grim.

They sat.  Chegwidden steepled his hands in front of his face and stared at his officers in silence.

Harm's sense of trepidation grew stronger with each passing moment.  Something had definitely gone wrong in the world if the Admiral needed time to compose what he wanted to say.

"Sir?" Mac finally asked.  She hated pregnant silences, Harm knew from experience.  

The Admiral sighed.  "There's been a problem with the undercover investigation."

Harm stifled a groan.  Could it possibly get worse?  He regretted asking himself the question when the Admiral began to speak again.

"There was a… mistake made on your paperwork.  If it was anyone's fault, it's mine.  I was the one who forgot about until the last moment."  He shook his head.  "I can only hope Harriet won't take this too hard."

Harm and Mac traded nervous glances.

"Take _what_ too hard, sir?" Harm asked.

Chegwidden took a deep breath.  "All the paperwork was filled out with your real names, not your cover identities.  I talked with Mr. Steiner earlier and, unfortunately, the list of contestants has already been released to the media.  We can't make a substitution without drawing a lot of suspicion."

Harm wondered what he was missing.  "Sir, we've gone undercover using our real names in a number of instan--" Harm broke off as understanding hit him.  His mind, as usual, had continued along the thought path, well ahead of his mouth.  He suddenly understood why the Admiral looked so grim.  Each of the contestant couples would be married as part of the show's first episode, just prior to boarding the cruise ship.  Harm hadn't been looking forward to that part for a lot of reasons, but now it had taken on even more frightening implications.

Mac paled.  "If we use our real names, then the wedding on the show would be…"

"Legal," the Admiral finished for her.

Harm's stomach tightened.  He couldn't keep his eyes from sliding to Mac's face.  _What am I supposed to say to that?_ he wondered.  For once he couldn't read the expression in his partner's eyes.

"For that reason, unless one of you has an objection, I'm going to call the SecNav and tell him I'm pulling the plug on this investigation."  The Admiral split his gaze between them.

"Uh, sir--" Harm was surprised to hear his own voice.

The Admiral's gaze snapped to him and only long years of exposure kept Harm from flinching at the intensity of his stare.  "Do you have an objection, Commander?"

Harm very carefully did not look at Mac.  "A question, sir."  He took a deep breath.  "What happens if we pull out?"

The Admiral leaned back in his chair.  "I suppose they'll find two other poor, unsuspecting schmucks to take your place on the show and you two will return to your normal lives--" He flashed Mac a tight smile.  "Reputations intact."

"Sir, what happens to the Navy?" Harm wondered why he was asking.  _There I go again, refusing to leave things be.  I don't really want to do this… do I?_

The Admiral's expression darkened, but he said nothing.  His silence answered the question more forcefully than any words could have.  The military had gotten a boost from the recent, rampant patriotism in the wake of the September 11th attacks, but no one had forgotten Tailhook or the other incidents.  With the United States examining itself as the model for fair and equal treatment for all people, there would be little tolerance of any kind of misconduct, particularly from the military.

When he did speak, the Admiral's voice was tightly controlled.  "The Navy does not have the power or the right to force either of you to continue under these circumstances."

"Sir?"  Mac spoke for the first time.  "Are you angry with us?"

The Admiral turned to her.  "Not yet, Colonel, but I will be if you and Commander Rabb insist on continuing with this lunacy."

"Why, sir?"

A brief, wry smile lit the Admiral's features.  "Do you _really_ want me to answer that, Colonel MacKenzie?"

She blinked at his implication, then sat back, thoroughly chastened.  Harm couldn't blame her.  He also didn't dare look at her.

For a little while there was silence in the Admiral's office.

"Very well," the Admiral finally said.  "I'll call SecNav."

"Sir--"

"_What_, Commander?"

Harm thought through what he wanted to say.  The idea of backing out rankled, especially when they were in a position to do so much good for the Navy, which was more of a family to Harm than his real one.  No, it was more than that.  The Navy was his foundation-- the basis for his ethics, his life, his ambitions. The credos of a Naval officer, aviator, even litigator defined who Harmon Rabb was.  He couldn't stand by while the Navy's reputation was besmirched, not if he had the power to intervene.

Harm took a deep breath.  "I'm willing to continue, sir."

"Rabb, you must either be out of your mind, or secretly in love with Colonel MacKenzie." 

Harm kept his reaction in check with an effort. He was _not_ going to touch that one.  He held the Admiral's gaze.  "I want to protect the Navy, sir.  The U.S. military is our example to the world of who and what Americans are.  We need to know what happened on that cruise, sir, so the Navy can take appropriate action-- whatever that may be."

Harm was aware of Mac staring at him, perhaps straight through him, with those deep, dark eyes of hers.  She turned to the Admiral.

"Sir, the marriage could be… annulled, couldn't it?  After we get back?"

Startled, Harm turned toward her.  She met his gaze, her expression filled with understanding.  Harm's heart swelled with gratitude.  Mac was backing him because she understood his reasons, and because she supported him any time it was important.  Harm knew he would do the same for her.  That was what made them partners.

The Admiral looked between them, then shook his head.  "All right, but don't say I didn't warn you."

"No, sir."

"We wouldn't do that, sir."

"Is that all, sir?" Harm asked.

The Admiral gave him a look of disgust.  "Isn't that enough, Commander?"

Harm sucked in his breath.  "Yes, sir."  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mac fighting a smile.

Harm and Mac walked out together.  Harm opened the door and held it for his partner. It felt completely natural to place one hand lightly on the small of her back as she passed.  Mac glanced up at him as he did, and he wondered once again just how big a risk they were taking.


	7. [7]

Chapter 7

Harm knocked on Mac's door promptly at five.  He could hear Mac's voice, strident but muffled, from within.  She opened the door with barely a glance in his direction before turning away.  She held the phone sandwiched in her shoulder.

"Chloe, I have to go."  Mac walked toward the kitchen where her purse and coat lay in a pile on the counter.  Harm couldn't help but admire as she went.  The dress the fashion people had given her was short and made of a satiny material the color of milk chocolate.  It clung suggestively to her curves as she walked, the fabric running with liquid color where the light struck it just right.

"Whoa," Harm commented under his breath as he let himself into the apartment.  Mac was beautiful under any circumstances, but she could be stunning when she chose.

Mac was still involved in her phone conversation, which, by its tone didn't sound very pleasant.  But then, Harm knew Chloe and Mac had been having some troubles since Mic left.

Mac heaved a tired sigh.  "Yes, Harm is here.  We need to leave in a few minutes."  A pause.  Mac looked toward the ceiling, her voice pained.  "I _told_ you, it's an investigation and I can't give you any details.  Besides, you'll see for yourself soon enough."

That apparently made Chloe pause, and Mac took advantage of the opportunity.  "Goodbye, Chloe.  I love you."  She hung up quickly.

When she turned to look at Harm, he shrugged.  "She hates me."  He always felt like he needed to apologize for that, though it wasn't his fault.

Mac sighed, frustrated.  "Well, you're not Mic."

"No, I'm not."

Mac's gaze jumped to his.  "I'm sorry, Harm.  She's young and idealistic.  She's _convinced_ Mic and I belong together--"

"And that I got in the way.  I know."  Harm walked over to the couch and seated himself on one arm.  

Mac came to him as if drawn.  He could see the hurt and frustration in her eyes.  "She won't _listen.  _She doesn't want to believe that I couldn't love him the way he deserved, that it _never_ would have worked."  She wrapped her arms around Harm's neck, her entire body tense from the roiling emotions that underlay her words.  Harm reciprocated, slipping his arms around her waist but not trying to pull her closer.  He had always wondered why she wanted a hug from him whenever she talked about Mic, but hadn't yet summoned the nerve to ask.

Mac heaved a sigh.  "In some ways, I am so glad you went down that night."

Harm turned to look at her face.  "Even though I almost died?"

Mac looked away.  "You didn't, so yes.  It was like I was in this fog…" Her gaze grew distant.  "Everyone else figured it out before me.  I really _didn't _understand why Mic was leaving, not at first."  She paused, rigid in his grasp.  "You want to know when I figured it out?" Her voice had taken on a bitter edge.

Wary, Harm nodded.  "Tell me."

"When I walked away from your door.  Because _that_ hurt more than watching Mic step on an airplane to Australia."

Harm could hardly force himself to breathe.  Had they really gotten to the point they could re-open this wound and set it to healing?  He had long since locked away the things he'd realized that night because they were too painful to live with, but now…

His breath caught in his throat.  "Mac--"

It was too much, too fast.  The moment shattered.  Mac backed up as if she'd been burned.  "We need to get going."  She went to retrieve her things from the kitchen.

Harm wanted to grab her and shake her, but knew better.  That would only harden her defenses.  Instead he watched her silently.  

When she had her things, he followed her to the door.

#

They drove in uncomfortable silence.  Mac alternated between berating herself for opening her mouth and trying to work up the nerve to apologize.  She watched Harm from the corner of her eye.  He kept his attention focused on his driving, which wasn't unusual.   For a man who had the reflexes and the nerve to fly fighters, he drove like a grandmother.

"The speed limit is fifty here," she commented as they passed another sign.

"We have plenty of time," was the cool response.  He didn't look at her.

Mac leaned her head back against the headrest, angry with herself.  _Stupid, Sarah.  This was a bad time to open a can of worms._  She knew she'd hurt Harm's feelings, perhaps more deeply than she wanted to admit.  _You really need to learn to keep your mouth shut around him when it comes to Mic._  Except that he was the only person in the world who could comfort her when her heart was on the line.

_What a mess.  I wonder if any of the other couples are fighting on the way to this thing, or if it's just us?_  She grimaced._  Listen to me, 'other couples'.  Is that what we are now?_

Gathering her courage, she turned her head.  "I'm sorry, Harm."

His fingers flexed on the steering wheel.  "For what Mac? What you said… or what you didn't say?"  He shot her a single, piercing glance.

_Ouch._  Mac bit her lip.  "Both, I guess."  She forced herself to go on.  "Mic told me that the only reason I agreed to marry him was because I didn't want to be alone, and he was right."  She made a helpless gesture.  "I don't want to make that mistake again."  She looked away, out the window.  "This-- this _thing_ between us, Harm… I don't know what it is.  All I know is that it's deep and powerful, and--" She shook her head.  "And this assignment is just making it more confusing."

He sighed, no longer sounding angry.  "No objection here."  His gaze shifted between the windshield and his side mirror as he changed lanes.  "You didn't have to do it, you know.  The Admiral was all set to kill this thing."

"You're the one who filed the motion for a continuance," she pointed out.

He shrugged.  "Defense counsel for the Navy needed more time to prepare arguments and gather evidence."

Mac eyed him. "Which action defense co-counsel fully supports."

She watched as some of Harm's tension drained away.  She could see it in the set of his shoulders and the quirk of his every-so-expressive eyebrows.  A slightly more comfortable silence descended.

A bit later, Harm flashed her a grin as if none of the past twenty minutes had happened.  "Mac, how many lawyers does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

Mac stared at him in surprise.  The sudden change in his demeanor was a bit unnerving.  Was he really dropping the issue?  

"I don't know.  How many?"

He smiled.  "No one knows.  When the light goes on, they all scurry back under the rug."

Mac's laughter was pained.  "Oh, ouch."  _Was the cockroach comparison aimed at me?  _Harm wasn't usually that subtle.  No, most likely he was just making a joke to lighten the atmosphere, and for that she was grateful.

She thought for a moment.  "All right.  How many psychologists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?"

Harm accelerated as he pulled onto a new street.  "How many?"

"I don't know.  How many do _you_ think?"

He chuckled.  "How many airmen does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

Mac couldn't help but smile in anticipation.  The mutual disregard between the Air Force and the Naval services went back decades.  "How many?"

"Five.  One to hold the light bulb and four to spin the ladder."

Mac chuckled.  "I'll have to remember that one.  Let's see, how many CIA operatives does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

"Hopefully Webb doesn't have my car bugged.  How many?"

"If I told you that I'd have to kill you."

It was Harm's turn to laugh, but the laughter died as they turned into the Marriott's parking lot.  

"We're here."  He pulled into a parking space and killed the engine.

When he reached for the door handle, Mac touched his arm, halting him.  He looked at her questioningly.

Mac moistened her lips, her stomach trembling.  She had to take the step, though.  She owed him that much.  

"When this is over--" She indicated the hotel visible through the windshield.  "All of it… maybe then we can try to figure out…" The words lodged in her throat.

"…what this _thing_ is?"  Harm cocked an eyebrow at her.

She nodded.  "Yeah."  On impulse, she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, but at the last moment he turned and caught her lips with his instead.  Mac's heart leapt into her throat, powered upward by a lance of heat that speared through the center of her body, searing everything it touched.  Her fingers tightened spasmodically on his arm and the lapel of his jacket, knotting in them as if her life depended on it.  She felt his hand behind her neck, pulling her closer, holding her tight.  Distantly, she heard the sound of cloth sliding across the upholstery, but it had no meaning for her.  All that mattered in that moment was the feel of Harm's mouth on hers, the heat of his skin, and the frantic pounding of her own heart.

The kiss ended long before Mac wanted it to.  Harm's touch trailed away, leaving an ache where it had been.  She opened her eyes to find him watching her.  The blue, blue eyes stared into her own, unguarded and deeply surprised.  He blinked.

"_That _got out of hand in a hurry," he observed, sounding more than a little abashed.

Mac discovered she was leaning across the center console, well into the driver's side of the car.  She straightened self-consciously and fanned herself with the lapels of her coat. She shot Harm a sidelong look.  

"Is it hot in here?"  

He chuckled, breaking the tension, and flashed her an impish grin.  "Oh, yeah." 

Together they got out of the car.  The cool air struck Mac's face and swirled around her body.  She drew a deep, bracing breath before walking forward to meet Harm.  Strangely enough, she didn't feel awkward slipping her hand into his for the walk across the parking lot. At least, not until the light pressure of his grip made her aware of the engagement ring decorating her finger, and reminded her of just how high the stakes were in this game they were playing.


	8. [8]

Chapter 8

They were met just inside the front door by Selena. She greeted them, panning her dazzling smile across both lawyers impartially.

"So, it is now Mr. _Rabb_ and Ms. _MacKenzie_, correct?" she asked.

Harm and Mac exchanged glances.  "That's correct," Harm answered warily.

Selena's smile deepened.  "Don't worry, I am being well paid not to ask questions.  We'll simply go on from here as if it has always been this way."  She gestured toward the bank of elevators behind her.  "Mr. Steiner has reserved the penthouse for the evening.  If you'll follow me…"

Harm and Mac did so.  They emerged from the elevator to a fairyland of twinkling lights and soft music.  Having been to a few functions where the President himself was in attendance, neither officer was awestruck, but Steiner sure had pulled out all the stops, Harm thought.  The suite took up a full quarter of the Marriott's top floor.  The two external walls were made entirely of floor-to-ceiling panes of glass, giving a spectacular view of the capitol.  The last rays of sunset turned the sky a burnished orange, brushed with red, and covered the monuments in shadow.  Inside the room, the lights had been dimmed.  A buffet lined one wall, complete with liveried attendants.  White leather furniture dotted the open floor.  A jazz trio played in one corner, next to the baby grand piano.  People stood or sat in uncomfortable pairs, trying to make light conversation while also sizing each other up.  A few struck Harm as looking more like tourists than anything else.  And in the middle of it all stood Daniel Steiner, talking animatedly to the knot of people who surrounded him, their attention rapt.

"I feel like I'm walking into the wolf's den."  Mac said out of the corner of her mouth.

In response, Harm pulled her closer and started humming, "Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?" in her ear. Mac giggled, as he'd hoped she would.  

Selena led them through the group toward Steiner.  He interrupted the story he was telling when he spied her.

"Ah!  Selena, dear, you look as lovely as ever."  They greeted each other with airy kisses, then Steiner turned to Harm and Mac.  "And you two must be Mr. Rabb and Ms. MacKenzie.  It's a please to meet you at last, and to officially welcome you to _Temptation Cruise II_."

As they made the requisite pleasantries, Harm felt the other couples taking their measure.  The stares were surprisingly hostile.  Or perhaps not so surprisingly.  Unlike Harm and his partner, all the others were there in pursuit of a million-dollar prize, and were either greedy enough, stupid enough, or both, to risk their marriages on it.

"Please, help yourselves to some food and whatever you'd like from the bar.  We'll be getting underway in a few minutes."  Steiner waved toward the buffet, then went back to whatever speech he'd interrupted to greet them.  Harm and Mac gratefully moved away.

"Hungry?" Harm asked as they approached the buffet.

Mac picked up a plate and looked over the choices.  "Starving, though I doubt there's much here worth eating."  She made a show of looking over the caviar, crab puffs and aged cheeses with distaste.

Harm chuckled.  "I think burgers are a little too plebian for this crowd.  There's sushi, though."  He moved to take some of the California rolls for himself.

Mac grimaced.  "You and your health food."

At the end of the buffet, they ran into another couple.  _They can't possibly be old enough to get married, can they?_ Harm wondered as he looked them over. To him, the girl looked like she might be sixteen, which probably meant she was somewhere around twenty-- that age range was beginning to blur for him.  She was cute, though. Her blond hair was piled on top of her head with little ringlets framing her face.  Freckles dusted her nose and her cornflower-blue eyes were both sweet and a little shy.  Her fiancée was more of the same.  _Probably All-American on his high school football team._  He had those kind of clean-cut good looks.  

The young man held out his hand to Harm.  "Hi, I'm Jeb Anderson."  His voice held a mild southern twang.  Kentucky, maybe, or Tennessee.  Harm took the proffered handshake, which was surprisingly strong.

"Harmon Rabb," he returned.  "Call me Harm."

Jeb indicated his fiancée.  "This is Stacy."  The look he gave her was gently possessive and bordered on adoration.  Harm tried not to laugh as he shook her hand.  _I was that young once, wasn't I?_  It seemed like it must have been a lifetime ago.  He turned to Mac.

"Jeb, Stacy, this is… my fiancée, Sarah MacKenzie."  He managed not to stumble too badly on the words.

"Call me Mac."  At their surprised looks, she added, "It's short for MacKenzie."

"Oh."  Trying to look nonchalant-- and failing miserably-- Stacy nodded, making her ringlets bounce.  Harm stifled a chuckle, contenting himself with a grin instead.  He wasn't quite old enough to be this girl's father, but close enough, and for a moment he caught a glimpse of what he was missing out on by not having kids.

Harm turned to Jeb.  "So what do you do?" he asked conversationally.

"I'm in the Engineering program at Kansas State University."  Jeb took a sip from the beer he held, and Harm mentally revised his age estimate up to twenty-one.  "I was supposed to graduate this coming May, but I'm taking a semester off to be on the show."

Harm nodded.  "What field?"  The more questions he asked, he figured, the fewer he'd have to answer.

"Aerospace.  K-State has a great program."

Harm's interest sharpened.  "Do you fly?"

Jeb grinned hugely.  "Just got my license this summer.  I'm working on my instrument rating now.  You?"

Harm nodded, unable to contain a smile.  "Yep.  I've got a Stearman I take up whenever I get the chance."

Behind him, Mac groaned.  "Oh no, there he goes talking about airplanes again."

Harm glanced over his shoulder to see Stacy laughing and Mac frowning playfully.  

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who has to live with it," Stacy said.

Mac's gaze jumped to Harm's.  He caught a hint of defensiveness, quickly buried.  She didn't understand his passion with flying.  In fact, she sometimes seemed to resent it.  In the Navy it was a common joke that a pilot never got lonely during the longs months at sea, for he always had his mistress to go to and the solitude of Angels Twenty and beyond in which to enjoy her.  Harm couldn't legitimately argue the point.  Flying Tomcats burned in his blood more than any woman ever had.  

It made him wonder, then, why he'd returned to JAG when he could have flown.  Sure, it was a young man's game, something he no longer was, but he was good enough to have stayed and taught the kids a thing or two.  It was a career path that could easily have led him to command of an air wing and possibly, at its pinnacle, command of an entire carrier group.

And at JAG?  Harm knew the Admiral was grooming him to take his place, that in ten years or so he would _be_ JAG, provided he didn't do anything stupid-- well, stupid_er_, anyway-- between now and then.  Most likely, being a lawyer would earn him Admiral's bars long before being a pilot would.  

Rank had never been Harm's driving ambition, though.

_Take a deep breath and just admit it,_ he admonished himself._  It's Mac.  Everything comes down to Mac._  It always had.

Steiner called for the room's attention then, saving Harm from his thoughts.  They and the soon-to-be Andersons moved toward the producer, mingling with the rear of the crowd now gathered around him.  

Mac gave Harm a curious look.  "You o.k.?"  Concern tinged her voice.

Harm turned on his trademark grin.  "Just feeling my age."

Mac glanced ruefully over at Jeb and Stacy, then back to him. "I know how you feel."

Dan Steiner raised his voice once again, ending the conversation.  "Once again, let me officially welcome you all to _Temptation Cruise II_, the hottest show on television!"  There was a smattering of applause.  Harm and Mac rolled their eyes at each other.  

"Each of you has been chosen from the thousands of applications because we--" He gestured to the men standing to either side of him, one of which, Harm noted in surprise, was Tony Ariel.  "--believe each of you has the faith, the strength, and the determination necessary to win the million-dollar grand prize."

"Not to mention the greed and arrogance," Mac added in an undertone.

Harm was too distracted to respond to her comment.  "Did you see Ariel come in?" he asked in a voice pitched for her ears only.  "He's over there next to Steiner."

Mac craned her head a fraction to see, then shook it lightly.  "No.  I must have been looking the wrong way.  He sure doesn't fit in, does he?"  Unlike anyone else in the room, Ariel was badly overweight, and was dressed in a shabby T-shirt and jeans.  Amidst the tailored outfits and assumed glamour, he stood out like a warning buoy on a dark ocean.

Steiner beamed at the crowd.  "Let me first go over the rules of the competition.  There are a few minor changes from the first _Cruise_, which I will explain.  After that I'll answer any questions you may have, and the rest of the evening you'll have to mingle and get to know each other."

Mac crossed her arms.  "Oh, joy."

Harm grinned at her sarcasm.

"On June 19th-- a day you will each remember with great fondness, I hope-- you will board our cruise ship, the _Radiant Heart_, after exchanging vows with your betrothed on the shore.  Each of our nine newlywed couples will be assigned a luxurious cabin and will be treated like kings and queens for the duration of the six-week cruise.  Scattered among the other cabins on the ship will be those housing our delectable singles-- a total of twenty-four for this cruise: twelve men and twelve women.  The first night of the cruise-- the wedding night-- all of the singles will be confined to their quarters until sunrise.  After that, however, you will all be free to mingle as you choose.

"Twice each week, at our various ports of call, each of the newlyweds will be required to go on an outing alone with one of the singles of the opposite sex.  The activities will be things like snorkeling, boating, hiking, and horseback riding.  Spouses will be able to win the opportunity to block their mates from going on an outing with a specific single during the various competitions that will be held.  In some instances, spouses will also be able to pick the single their mate will go outing with.

"Everything will be recorded on video, and spouses will have the option to view the other's outing once everyone has returned to the ship.  They can turn down the opportunity, but if one spouse chooses to watch, the other then _must_ watch as well.

"Every inch of the ship is covered by video cameras. The cameras in the newlyweds' staterooms operate differently than the rest.  Between dawn and dusk, the cameras in your rooms will always be on.  After dark, you can shut them down by turning off the cabin lights."  Steiner grinned wickedly.  "We're not in the business of shooting revealing film of our happily married couples.

"Elsewhere on the ship, however, there is no mercy.  The cameras are always on, including in the empty cabins-- each of which is done in a different theme, and with a few very pleasant surprises for those who find them." The grin reappeared.  

"There will be a number of independent cameramen roaming the ship as well.  They are to be ignored.  They are under strict instruction never to speak to you or interact with you in any way.

"Grounds for elimination from the competition are the same as last time, and are quite simple.  Any voluntary sexual act with someone other than your spouse will result in elimination from the competition and removal from the ship at the next port of call.  This does not necessarily mean intercourse, though that is, of course, included."  Steiner then went on to describe in great detail the distinction between activities that would and would not constitute grounds for disqualification.

Harm had never considered himself particularly shy when it came to discussing sex, but found himself staring at his shoes while Steiner talked.  In truth, it was no more explicit than some of the testimony he'd taken witnesses through in various cases involving sexual harassment, rape, or fraternization, but it somehow seemed much more embarrassing.

"Are we sure we want to do this?" Mac whispered to him when Steiner finished.

Harm bent down to whisper back, "Heck no.  At the moment, I'm all for making a break for it.  How about you?"

A smile crept into her voice.  "Are you blushing, Harm?"

"Now, I think that covers all the basics," Steiner said before he could respond.  "Are there any questions?"

There were a few.  Harm and Mac learned that the heads aboard ship would not have surveillance since that was against Federal law.  

"Thank goodness for small favors," was Mac's sour comment.

They also learned that couples could voluntarily opt out of the competition if they decided the risk to their relationship was no longer worth the million dollars.  That, strangely enough, made Harm feel much better.  Punching out was never fun, but it beat going down with the airplane any day.

"Nice to know there's an escape," Mac said as the music picked up and the crowd began to disperse.

Beside her, Stacy was looking a little pale.  "Yeah."

"What made you two decide to do something like this?" Mac asked the young couple.

Jeb shrugged, but smiled.  "It was kind of a dare.  I was braggin' to Stacy once while we were watching the original _Cruise_ that I loved her so much we could go on the show and win, easy."

Stacy flushed at that.  "So when I heard about the sequel, I went online and applied," she said.  "And here we are."

"What about you two?" Jeb asked.

Harm looked at Mac, who shrugged, leaving it in his lap.  "Believe it or not, our boss got us into it," Harm said, thinking quickly.  In a twisted sense, it was true.

"His idea of a practical joke," Mac added.  "But, hey, who could turn down a six-week cruise?"

Stacy gave her a skeptical look.  "Do you really think you can win?"  

Harm was a little surprised by the challenging grin that lit his partner's face. "We certainly intend to."  She leaned into Harm, her body language as suggestive as anything she'd ever done in his presence.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked quickly, wondering why he wanted an excuse to get out of the conversation.  Having Mac hanging on him was hardly something to be avoided.

She merely nodded and let him lead her away.  When they'd gained some distance, her demeanor returned to normal.  She shook her head.  "These people are completely out of their minds-- and so are we for going through with this.  You know what I'm dreading most?"

"What?"

"Going back to work after this.  I'm going to walk into court and the judge will say, 'Hey, aren't you one of those bimbos from _Temptation Cruise_?'".

Harm chuckled.  "Mac, I pity any man who calls you a bimbo."

The comment won him a laugh.  "And with good reason."


	9. [9]

Chapter 9

A.J. came out of his office a few minutes before the formal start of the day.  He liked to walk through the bullpen, say good morning, and catch up on the various goings-on in his surrogate family's lives.  Lately, the _Temptation Cruise_ saga had become preeminent.  Harm and Mac had regaled them with stories of the horrors of power lunches, professional photo shoots, and worst of all, the contestant interviews. 

This morning, the entire JAG team seemed to have gathered, with the notable exception of Colonel MacKenzie.  A.J. drifted over.

"Is everyone ready for the Labor Day picnic?" he asked after the round of "Good morning, Admiral!" had died away.

"Yes, sir," Harriet assured him.  "I've made sure everyone knows what they're supposed to bring for the barbeque, and Tiner has agreed to bring his volleyball net and lawn darts."

"You have lawn darts, Lieutenant?" Sturgis asked with a grin.

"I do, sir."  Tiner answered, but didn't seem to know whether to be pleased or offended by the question.

"Hey, Harm." Sturgis turned his attention to the commander.  "Are you and Mac going to make this a 'hands on' or a 'hands off' event?"

Harm flushed, embarrassed, as attention centered on him.  "I don't know, Sturgis.  I'll have to ask her."  The look he gave his friend promised retribution for mentioning something that obviously hadn't been meant for general consumption.

A.J. glanced between the two men, fighting to keep his expression stern.  "I'm not entirely sure I like the sound of this, Commander.  Would you care to explain?"

Harm spread his hands, his grin as guileless as a five-year-old's.  "Well, sir, it's a term the Colonel and I have been using to differentiate between times when we're acting… in character for the investigation, and times when we're not."

"It's pretty amazing, sir," Harriet piped up.  "They're very convincing."  The comment earned her a glare from Commander Rabb and a scandalized stare from her husband.  She subsided with an "what-did-I-do" pout.

"Ah."  A.J. studied his lead litigator.  He had never found many opportunities to advise Harm about his relationship with Mac, to his regret.  He so wanted to help the two find each other.  Unfortunately, he was bound by the rules of his position not to foster behavior that violated Navy regulations, and so far he had never stepped over that line.    He paused as a thought struck him.  This undercover investigation had done a rather good job of redrawing the lines, though, hadn't it?  

A.J. kept his smirk firmly to himself.  "I think I'd like to judge that for myself, thank you, Harriet."  He nodded to the Lieutenant, then turned to Harm.  "Consider it a 'hands on' event, Commander.  I believe that's the correct term?"

Harm gaped at him.

A.J. turned his hard-line routine up a notch.  "Do you have a problem with that, Commander?" he demanded.  A.J. so loved being an Admiral.  He could torment his friends without risk of payback.

"Uh… no, sir."

"Good."  A.J. widened his attention to take in the whole group.  "I look forward to seeing you all on Monday."  And with that he headed back to his office, silently whistling a merry tune as he went.

#

"Sturgis, I am going to _kill_ you!"  Harm glared at the commander in friendly outrage.

Sturgis laughed, completely unimpressed.  "Only if Mac doesn't kill you first."

"She just might, you realize."

"Oh, sir, it'll be all right."  Harriet gave Harm a compassionate smile.

"You!" With a laugh of his own, Harm rounded on her. "After I've finished with _him_--" He pointed to Sturgis.  "I'm going to come after you, Lieutenant."  At Bud's alarmed look, he added in an undertone, "Or at the very least, order your husband to take you home and spank you."

Bud and Harriet stared at him wide-eyed while everyone else dissolved into discrete giggles. Satisfied that he'd made his point, Harm turned to leave. He took a step and nearly collided with Mac, who stood two paces behind him.  She wore a look of amusement that set her dark eyes to dancing.

"Do I dare ask?"

The spate of giggles turned into full-scale guffaws.  Harm couldn't help but join in the laughter.  "I'll tell you later," he promised.

He noticed she was holding a very large manila envelope in one hand.  "What's that?"

Mac handed the envelope over, grinning at him with a kind of cheerful menace.  "Apparently, _Rolling Stone_ has decided they want you for their cover-- don't ask me why."

Harm studied the envelope in his hands with interest.  This whole cover photo escapade certainly wasn't harming his ego.  "That's not very charitable of you, Mac."  He flashed his partner a smile.  "Have I given you any trouble at all about being on _Cosmo_?"

Mac groaned.  "At least you get the shot to yourself.  _I_ had to spend sixteen hours with that Esperanza witch."

Harm chuckled.  "Carmen, Mac.  Her name is Carmen."

"You would know."

Harm looked at her askance.  "You're in a mood this morning."  At her sharp look, he continued, "For your information, that woman has 'Maneater' stamped on her forehead."  He grinned disarmingly.  "Besides, she's engaged."  He bent down to add in a conspiratorial whisper, "And so am I, you know."

"Harm."  Mac backed up a step, her expression carrying a half-serious warning.  "Anyway, those are the prints for the cover photo."  She waved toward the envelope.  "Sandy Claussen wants to know which one you like."  Harm raised both eyebrows as she continued, "She came by my apartment this morning."

"Why'd she go to your place?"

"Because you weren't at yours."  Their gazes locked for a moment as the implication sank in. 

"What did you tell her?"

Mac shrugged, her gaze even.  "That you'd already left for work, of course.  But, that's why I'm so late.  I had to throw a robe on over my uniform to answer the door, and _then_ I had to change because there was lint all over the jacket.  Oh, and on a slightly different subject-- you left your sweater at my place last night.  Here."  She handed him the dark blue sweater that had quickly become too warm to wear while they were going over some statements related to their most recent case.

"Thanks."  Harm decided to ignore the curious expressions on the faces of the people surrounding them.  Let them wonder.  It was the only revenge he would ever get.  

#

"I feel very weird about this," Mac told Harm as they approached the Admiral's front door Monday afternoon.

Harm shrugged, unperturbed.  "Orders are orders."

Mac sighed and let it go.  It just didn't bother him as much as it did her.  

The wooden steps creaked under their feet as they made their way to the door.  Harm knocked.

A small, shadowed corner of the porch caught Mac's eye.  She turned involuntarily as the memories came back, rushing through her in a torrent of emotions.  She felt Harm tense.

"Do you ever wonder…?"  She wasn't certain she'd voiced the question aloud until he answered.

"Every day, Mac."  His voice was rough.

The door opened, startling them both.  Their gazes snapped forward guiltily.

"Good afternoon, Commander, Colonel."  The Admiral watched them with an odd expression that disappeared when they returned his greeting.  He ushered them inside.  They followed him through the house, emerging on the back porch.  

The party was well underway.  Burgers sizzled on the grill, filling the air with the heavenly smell of charred beef.  A picnic table was filled to overflowing with food, to which Harm and Mac added their own contributions.  Gunny and a pretty brunette sat on one side of the table, talking with Bud and Harriet and a couple of people Mac didn't recognize.  Sturgis and Bobbi Latham stood off to one side with Sergei, Lauren, and Jason, among others.

Harm left Mac's side to greet his brother with a hug.  Sergei had been scarce lately.  He had gotten his U.S. pilot's license and was now flying a Lifeflight helicopter for one of the big D.C. hospitals.  Mac smiled to see Harm with his little brother.  Sergei was so good for him.

Mac drifted through the group, greeting friends and introducing herself to those she didn't know.  An observant woman, Bobbi Latham took note of the engagement ring at once.  

She raised an aristocratic eyebrow in silent question.  "I didn't realize congratulations were in order."

Mac looked between the Congresswoman and Sturgis, debating her response.  From the smirk on Sturgis' face, she concluded he had deliberately left Bobbi in the dark and was waiting to see how Mac broke the news to her.

"Yes, Harm and I are getting married," Mac answered, and had the satisfaction of seeing the other woman's jaw drop.

Bobbi coughed lightly, regaining her composure.  "Ahem.  Really?  That's wonderful. When is the wedding?" 

Beside her, Sturgis was fighting not to laugh.  Mac met his gaze, daring him to give the game away.  "June 19th," she answered.

Bobbi smiled at Mac.  "Well, all I can say is, it's about time!"

At that, Sturgis burst out laughing.  Mac dropped her gaze, suddenly cold.  Bobbi couldn't know how deeply her comment cut.  In fact, she was looking between Sturgis and Mac with apprehension, obviously realizing she'd said something unwelcome.

A hand touched Mac's hip, bringing an instant flush of warmth.  The hard knot in her stomach relaxed a notch as Harm stepped up behind her, giving her a gentle hug.  Mac glanced up at his face, needing his smile to chase away the cold fear in her heart.

_What am I doing?_ she snarled at herself.  _This is all a game.  A fairy tale.  I can't take this as reassurance that he really loves me!_  But she was, and she knew it.

"Will you excuse us?" she asked Bobbi.  She turned to Harm.  "We need to talk."

Leaving a disturbed Bobbi Latham behind, Mac led her partner into the house and through it-- to the porch.

Harm watched her with a concern that deepened as he took note of the location.  "What's up, Mac?" His voice was wary.

Mac crossed her arms and walked to the banister to stare out at the lawn.  "I'm not sure I can do this."

"This, today?  Or this, the entire investigation?"

"Either.  Both."  She bit her lip.  "I don't know."

"What did Bobbi Latham say to you?"  Other than his voice, Harm didn't make a sound.  He tended to go very still whenever they had these kinds of conversations.  He did an impressive boulder impersonation.  Mac hadn't yet managed to bully him into anything.  She was learning not to try.

Mac shook her head tiredly.  "It doesn't matter."  

She gathered her courage and turned to face him.  There was one question she had to have the answer to.  

"Harm, the last time we were here… Why did you let me walk away?"  She remembered clearly the passion and longing with which he'd kissed her that night.  All he would have had to do was say the word and she would have gone to him, gone with him, and never looked back.  Surely he knew that.

As the guards sprang into place in his eyes, she had her answer.  He knew.  Bitter anger rose in her throat.  "How can you _do_ this?"  Her hands clenched at her sides, echoing her feelings.

"Do what?" He stood there, his posture deceptively casual. 

"_This!_"  Mac spread her arms.  "This-- this-- Jekyll and Hyde act.  This game.  This _farce_.  How can you _hold_ me and _kiss_ me-- and don't you dare tell me it isn't real, because I know better--" She pointed a finger at his chest.  "--and then, like it's on some kind of switch, just go back to where all of that is off limits." 

Harm stared at her, and for a minute she was afraid he wouldn't answer.  Then he sighed.  "There aren't any consequences in a game, Mac."  His eyes were serious, shadowed.  "That's why we play them."

Mac stared at him in dawning fury.  Was he _using_ her?  "_Consequences_?  Are you really that afraid of responsibility, Rabb?  Or are you just so selfish you run away from anything that might possibly be meaningful so you won't have to risk losing that precious self-control of yours?"

Pure, bald anger flared in his eyes.  "You're out of line, Mac."  The words were cold.

Mac wanted to hit him.  Anything to break through that rigid wall and get a true, honest, _uncontrolled_ reaction from him.  Anything that would prove she'd gotten all the way to his heart.

A muscle in his jaw knotted as he clenched his teeth. "You have no idea what you're talking about.  You act like all we have to do is say the magic words and we can ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.  It doesn't work that way!"  His voice rose on that last, and he paused.  She watched him fight for control.  When he had it, he continued in a deceptively mild voice, "It isn't that simple." 

"Yes, it is!"  Mac leaned back against the banister, wrapping her arms around her waist for comfort.  "Commitment is a pretty simple concept.  That doesn't mean it's easy, but it _is_ simple."  The obvious example leapt to mind.  "You're a career officer, Harm.  How can you make lifelong, do-or-die commitments to the Navy but not to me?  Or any woman, for that matter?"

Harm looked up, out over Mac's head.  His gaze grew distant.  "The Navy is an institution, Mac," he said patiently, as if explaining something to a child.  "It's not as… fragile as people are."

Mac stared at him as the pieces cascaded into place.  Suddenly she understood.  

When Harmon Rabb, Sr. had gone down in Vietnam, it had taught his young, adoring son that people couldn't be trusted, even if they loved you.  Sometimes they left and didn't come back.  Maybe, she thought, Harm might have gotten over that once he grew up, but the woman he'd given his heart to as a young man-- Diane-- also died, cementing the conviction.

_And here I am, the spitting image of the only woman he ever allowed himself to love._  Mac wasn't foolish enough to believe Harm only saw her as a reflection of Diane.  But she could imagine a little voice inside him whispering that this one, too, would only leave.  He might even hold the secret fear that she would die _because_ he loved her.

Mac stared up at her partner's empty-eyed gaze.  She finally held the key that unlocked the mystery of Harmon Rabb, Jr.  She just wished she knew what to do with it.

Her anger drained away as quickly as it had come.  Quiet tears followed.  For him.  For them.  She reached out to wrap her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest.  After a moment, his arms folded around her, holding her tight.

"I'm sorry, Mac."  She felt his breath against her neck.  "I don't think I can be what you want me to."

Mac wiped her tears.  She was nothing if not tenacious, and proud of it.  "Don't wimp out on me now, Commander," she told him.

His answer was a strained chuckle.  He continued to hold her close.

"Are you ready to go back to the party?" he asked after a while.  "People are going to start to wonder what happened to us."

"Yeah." Mac straightened and summoned a bright smile.  "The Admiral did want a demonstration, didn't he?"

He touched her cheek.  "Are you o.k. with that?" His gaze was frank.

She shrugged.  "We have a job to do."

"That wasn't what I meant."

Mac looked into his face.  "I know."  She sighed, resigning herself to the moment.  "You answered my question, which is what I really needed.  I can 'be o.k.' with the rest of it."

They stared at each other for several long moments.  Then Harm bent down to kiss her with a gentle intensity that made her chest ache.

"Just getting back in character?" she asked when they parted.

He shook his head.  "Not here."  He cocked an eyebrow at the weathered boards of the Admiral's porch, a hint of wry humor creeping into his expression.

Mac nodded, accepting that.  A five-foot by five-foot square of wooden planks where they could be completely honest wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.  

She summoned a grin.  "Well, shall we go scandalize our co-workers?"

Harm chuckled.  "I'm game if you are."


	10. [10]

_Note:  I've bumped the story rating to R.  There is a rape case at the heart of this, so the content is getting more explicit because of that._

Chapter 10

Harm and Mac sat side by side in one of the interrogation rooms at JAG.  Across from them, the two Naval reservists accused of rape watched them nervously.  The two men's lawyers sat to either side of their clients.  Harm and Mac were the only ones in uniform, which suited Harm fine.  The reservists seemed properly intimidated at the prospect of being interviewed by both a Commander and a Lieutenant Colonel.  The lawyers were, too, but did a better job of hiding it.

"Let's go through the events of 12 July one more time."  Mac split her gaze evenly between the two defendants.  She often took the lead when they interrogated men accused of sexual misconduct. The accused didn't seem to be able to lie as effectively to a woman in that situation.  Besides, Mac was just plain good at her job, whatever the circumstances.

"Yes, ma'am," the two answered meekly.

"You said Tony Ariel set up the… rendezvous with Mrs. Antony.  Exactly how did that happen?"

The more outspoken of the reservists-- a Charles Brown (not Charlie, he was quick to say)-- glanced at his lawyer for permission, then answered,  "Well, ma'am, Jessica-- Mrs. Antony had been sending both of us notes and stuff though Mr. Ariel already--"

"What kind of notes?"

Charles shrugged, his gaze fixed on the table.  "That she wasn't going to stay with her husband and maybe, when the show was over we could get together.  Not before then, of course, 'cause they wanted to win the prize."

"You and she could get together?" Mac asked.

The man glanced up at her.  "And Paul."  He indicated his friend.

Harm and Mac shared a look.  "She was specific about a threesome?" Harm asked.

"Yes, sir." 

"What did you think of that?" Mac asked them.

Charles flushed.  "We didn't really know what to think, ma'am."

"But when she set it up for you to meet her in one of the empty cabins, you both went."  Mac watched the two men intently.

"Yes, ma'am.  Mr. Ariel's instructions were to go along with anything the contestants wanted.  That was part of the job."  He shrugged again.  "We figured she'd given up on the million dollars for some reason."

"What did you find when you got there?"

"Just Jessica.  She was layin' in bed, waiting."

"Was she restrained in any way?"

"No!" Charles was emphatic.

Mac made a note and went on, her face expressionless.  "What made you think she was waiting for you?"

"She'd put candles all over the place and there was music playing and stuff."

"Did she say anything?"

"No, ma'am."

"Nothing at all?"

"No, ma'am."

"Didn't you find that odd?"

Charles made a vague gesture.  "Maybe a little, ma'am, but… well, she only seemed to have one thing on her mind, if you know what I mean."

"Mrs. Antony claims she was drugged.  Did you see any indication of that?"

"No, ma'am.  She seemed to know what she wanted."

"So you're convinced the incident was consensual."

"Yes, ma'am.  Absolutely."

Mac switched directions.  "What about the notes you say she sent to you?  Did either of you keep them?"

"No, ma'am.  We always threw them overboard.  Jessica said to.  She didn't want her husband to find out."

"She said to throw them overboard-- in her notes?"

"No, ma'am.  Mr. Ariel said that's what she wanted."

"Did you ever talk to Mrs. Antony about this subject in person?"

"No, ma'am."

"Did you _try_ to talk to her about it?"

"No, ma'am.  We figured that would be too risky for her, what with all the cameras around."

"Did you talk to Mr. Ariel about it?"

Charles nodded.  "Once.  I was feelin' a little weird about… everything… so I asked Mr. Ariel what we should do.  Like, if she started somethin' and then decided to back out-- that kind of thing."

"What did he say?"

Charles kept his gaze fixed on the table in front of him.  "He said to try really hard to convince her to go through with it, and to take it… you know… all the way… if she was willing, but to make sure not to _do_ anything unless she made the first move."

Mac tapped her pen lightly on her papers.  "Did you follow that advice?"

"Didn't need to.  Ma'am."  Charles looked up for a moment.  "Like I said, she seemed to know what she wanted."

"All right.  Thank you for your time, gentlemen."  Mac rose to leave.  Harm copied her.

Outside the door, Mac turned.  "Do you believe them?" she asked.  Together they set off for their offices.

"I think they're telling the truth as they perceived it."  Harm shortened his stride to match hers.  Mac didn't like having to trot to keep up with him.

"But she might have been drugged."

He shrugged.  "Maybe.  There's circumstantial evidence to support her claim.  The tape from the ship seems to support the reservists' story, but it's incomplete and the sound quality is poor.  There's no telling if she said anything or not."

Mac frowned up at him.  "All it would take is a single 'no'."

"There's also the question of why the quality is so bad when this was a professional recording done for a television broadcast."

Mac snorted.  "'Professional' might be too strong a word.  But, you do have a point."

Harm looked at his partner, feeling a familiar protective tug.  He knew better than to say anything, though.  Mac could take care of herself as well as anyone, and disliked it when people tried to protect her.  He was just glad he would be on the cruise with her, to watch her six.  

Mac seemed oblivious to his thoughts.  "Are you going to be ready to go by five?" she asked.  Today was their last day in uniform until the got back from the Caribbean.  They were becoming too easily recognized to keep working at JAG.  It was an odd feeling.

"Yeah.  I have a couple of files to go over with Sturgis and then I'm done."  After that, they'd be on a flight to L.A. for some talk show appearance.  He couldn't remember which one. 

They reached the familiar confines of the bullpen.  Mac flashed him a quick grin.  "Great.  I'll see you then."

#

Mac browsed through one of the many little boutiques that lined the concourse at Dulles while she waited for Harm to come back with the coffee.  This store was a newsstand, filled with books, magazines and newspapers, as well as the obligatory racks of T-shirts and other gewgaws.  Mac wanted something to read on the plane.  

She picked out a novel that didn't look too sordid-- and which didn't have a steamy cover for Harm to tease her mercilessly about-- and headed for the checkout line.

While she was standing there, a familiar face caught her eye.  She paused, realizing with a start that it was her own that stared back at her from the cover of _People Magazine_ along with the rest of the cast of _Temptation Cruise II_.  Smiling to herself, she grabbed the top copy.  It would be interesting to see what the article had to say.

After she'd paid for the magazine, she slipped it into a pocket of her carry-on bag.  Mac was hoping to get a look at the article before Harm saw it.  She wanted first crack at the teasing rights for once.

#

It was nearly midnight on the West Coast when they checked into their room at the airport Hilton.  That put it at 3:00AM in Washington.  Harm noted without reaction that there was only one bed.  Well, it wasn't the first time and certainly wouldn't be the last.  They had an agreement worked out, at least for the duration of this assignment.  At the moment, he was too tired to care, anyway.

He grabbed the case containing his toiletries and headed for the bathroom while Mac started unpacking.  He didn't bother trying to tell her it could wait until morning.  She wouldn't go to bed until everything had been either hung up or placed in the dresser drawers beneath the television, no matter what time it was.  

When he emerged, Mac was still at work so he pitched in to help her get everything put away.  Then she took her turn in the bathroom.  Harm changed into the shorts that were his normal nighttime wardrobe and gratefully climbed beneath the covers.  The alarm clock was on his side of the bed, he noted, and forced himself to roll over to examine it.

"Hey, Mac," he called over his shoulder.  "What time is this thing tomorrow?"

"Not until two," she answered from the bathroom, her voice muffled by the closed door.

"I'm setting the alarm for nine, then.  That seem reasonable to you?"

"Sounds good."  Her voice cleared as she stepped out of the bathroom and walked to the bed.  She was wearing a short, though not particularly revealing satin negligee.  Harm liked that one.  He spent about half a second admiring her, then decided the need for sleep outweighed the chance to ogle her legs.  He would get another opportunity in the morning.

He turned out the light as she slipped into bed beside him.  He was aware of her presence, but didn't try to move closer to her.  They had agreed that they were both adults enough to sleep in the same bed without making a big deal over it.  They couldn't risk having a maid see evidence of them _not_ sharing the bed and blabbing the story to the nearest rag magazine.  And if, on occasion, he woke to find Mac nestled against him that, too, was something they didn't fuss over.

With a soft sigh, Harm closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

#

Harm woke to the sound of Mac's laughter.  He opened his eyes to find her sitting up in bed beside him, reading a magazine. Sunlight streamed through the windows, painfully bright.  He groaned.

"What time is it?"

Mac glanced over at him, still chuckling.  "About a quarter 'til.  I didn't mean to wake you."

Harm pulled himself to a seated position. In the process he peered curiously at the magazine Mac was so obviously enjoying.  She flicked it away, hiding the article she was reading.  She grinned mischievously.

"Ah ah.  You can read it when I'm done."

"What is it?"  He made a play at reaching for the magazine.  Mac snatched it out of his reach, holding it at arm's length.

"It's the _People_ article about the show."  She fended him off with one hand.  "And my oh my, do they have some interesting things to say about _you_, flyboy."  Her grin widened as she dangled the magazine well off the edge of the bed, beyond his reach.

Laughing at her challenge, Harm lunged for it.  His hand closed on her wrist at about the same time he realized he'd committed too much of his weight to the endeavor.  Mac instinctively grabbed him as they overbalanced, but only succeeded in sending herself with him over the edge of the bed.  She shrieked as they tumbled to the floor in a cascade of bedding and laughter.  There they grappled for the magazine, Mac's superior hand-to-hand skills negating Harm's height advantage.

With a triumphant cry, Mac slithered out of his grasp and leapt back onto the bed.  She knelt at the center of the expanse, magazine held up to keep it out of easy reach.  Trying to catch his breath, Harm climbed to his feet and considered his next move.

Breathless herself and still laughing, Mac started to read.  "_In this reporter's opinion, the hottest hunk on the cruise is coincidentally its oldest._"  She grinned wickedly at Harm.  "Hear that, you're old." 

"But hot," he answered with a grin of his own.

She ignored him.  "_Meet Harmon Rabb, a lawyer at a small D.C. firm.  He is also a pilot, a musician, and quite possibly one of the year's sexiest men._"

And didn't _that_ sound good coming out of Mac's mouth.  Harm decided to take the direct approach.  He tackled her.

Her exclamation of surprise turned into another gale of giggles as they hit the bed.  This time, with Mac pinned beneath him, Harm had little trouble using his additional reach to snatch the now mangled magazine from her hand.

"Hey!"

Grinning exultantly, he looked down at her.  Mac's brown eyes had turned cinnamon-colored in the morning sunshine, and sparkled with laughter.  Her dark hair fell about her face in tousled disarray, making her all the more beautiful.  Harm wanted to kiss her and never, ever stop.

Instead, he rolled over onto his back, holding the copy of _People_ up where he could read it.  To his surprise, Mac followed him.  She lay on her stomach and folded her hands on his chest, laying her chin on them.  It was as if they had both returned to reality-- but were choosing to ignore it for a little while.

"_Sarah MacKenzie,_" Harm read.  "_Age 34.  This is a woman who knows what she wants, and how to get it.  She has beauty to match her brains_-- Heh.  They're not kidding," he added.  Mac poked him in the ribs and he chuckled.  "_And a fiery temper to complete the set.  An expert kickboxer, she is both strong enough and aggressive enough to take on any man, which leads to the question of who will end up ruling the roost in the Rabb household._  Hmmm."  He raised his head to look at Mac, curious to see her reaction.

To his relief, she was still smiling, though the expression was thoughtful.  "Do you think we would?" she asked after a moment.  "Turn a marriage into a turf war, I mean."

Harm lay his head back down on the bed and studied the ceiling as he thought.  One of Mac's least endearing traits was the way she tried to bully him whenever she started feeling insecure.  "I think it would be an issue we'd have to deal with," he answered at last.  "We're both pretty strong willed."

"And stubborn," she added. A minute later, she sighed.  "You know, I think I just figured out why I couldn't really love Mic."

Harm tried not to tense at the sound of Brumby's name.  "Why's that?"

"Because he let me push him around.  He wouldn't stand up to me.  You and I, we spit and snarl and fight over just about everything… but at least I know what you really think."

Harm digested that, uncertain what direction to take.  He decided to lighten the mood a bit.  "Just so you remember that _I'm_ Batman."

She chuckled, then raised herself onto her elbows to look into his face.  "I know I don't act like it sometimes, but I wouldn't want it any other way, Harm."

Without thinking, Harm set the magazine down, then reached up to brush a stray hair from her face.  His fingers lingered on her cheek.  Mac tipped her head a fraction, turning toward the caress. 

They recognized what was happening at the same time.  Mac's gaze flicked to the clock.  "We should get going."

"Yeah."

Slowly, regretfully, they disentangled themselves.  The moment wasn't exactly awkward, but they had lost the perfect, happy ease of the earlier time.  He watched Mac walk off toward the bathroom, the hem of her nightgown swishing about her thighs.

_Reality sucks_, he thought sourly.


	11. [11]

Chapter 11

Harm and Mac's lives became a whirlwind as the cruise date neared.  They never referred to it as the wedding day-- not aloud, at least.  Between the interviews and television appearances with the rest of the cast, the hours with Steiner's staff learning just exactly what would be going on during the six weeks at sea, and a multitude of appointments with costuming to get an entire wardrobe put together (not to mention a wedding dress, in Mac's case), the two had little time to contemplate the future.

It didn't really hit Mac until they were standing in the lobby of their hotel in Tampa, waiting for Sturgis, Bud and Harriet to arrive from the airport.  The show provided transportation and lodging for a best man and maid of honor for each couple, which Sturgis and Harriet had both happily agreed to.  Bud had opted to come with his wife. Mac accepted it all as gracefully as she could.  She wasn't sure how many witnesses she wanted to this thing.  One part of her wanted to shout, _I'm getting married tomorrow!_ and do a little jig right there in the lobby.  The rest wanted to curl up in a little ball and cry because she _wasn't _getting married tomorrow-- not in the way that counted most.

Harm squeezed her hand, bringing her back to the present.  "There they are."

Mac looked toward the hotel's gilded front doors.  She spotted Sturgis's tall figure immediately, and right behind him Bud and Harriet.  To her surprise and dismay, Admiral Chegwidden, Sergei, and Victor Galindez entered with them.

_Please don't tell me I have to do this in front of the _entire_ office_, Mac thought as they went to greet their friends.  She embraced Harriet as Harm shook hands with the men and hugged his brother.

"So… A.J…" Harm drawled with a sly smile.  They would not be using ranks tonight.  "What are you doing here?"

The Admiral grinned impartially at the two of them.  "Are you kidding?  We--" He indicated Victor and Sergei. "--wouldn't miss this for the world."  His expression sobered for an instant.  "Besides, I brought something for you two… for the honeymoon."

Mac studied Chegwidden.  He obviously wasn't talking about edible underwear or any other such traditional newlywed fair.  Harm caught the suggestion as well, acknowledging the Admiral with a nod.  They would talk about it later in one of the rooms where there were fewer ears to overhear.

"Have you all had dinner yet?" Mac asked.

"No.  Our flight left too early to serve dinner.  I don't know about anybody else, but I'm starving!"  Harriet said.

"Maybe after everyone is checked in, we can meet for dinner, then.  The restaurant in the hotel here is pretty good…" Harm trailed off as his gaze fixed on the glass doors fronting the hotel.  

"Harm?"  She looked toward the hotel entrance, but didn't immediately see cause for concern.

"What is my mother doing here?"  Harm shot the Admiral an accusing glance, but Chegwidden only shrugged.

A moment later, Mac spotted Trish and her husband.  They came through the front doors and walked toward the group, hand-in-hand.  Trish waved cheerfully when she spotted them.

Harm flashed his parents a guarded smile.  "Hi, Mom, Frank."  He bent down to let his mother wrap her arms around his neck in a huge hug.  "What are you guys doing here?"

"Don't be silly, Harm.  Of course we came."  She waved the unspoken protest away and turned to Mac, taking both her hands in greeting.  "It's good to see you, too, Mac.  You look lovely."

Mac smiled despite herself.  "Thank you."  She could see the glimmer of tears in the older woman's eyes and wondered if she, too, were having trouble remembering this wasn't real.  

Trish went on to hug Sergei with the same deep affection she'd shown her son.  Harm introduced his stepfather, Frank, to the rest of the JAG crew.  Frank and the Admiral immediately fastened on the topic of fly fishing while Trish pumped Sergei for information about how he was settling in D.C.  

Harm and Mac exchanged helpless looks.  Well, Mac thought, your family was supposed to be there for your wedding, right?

#

It had gotten late by the time everyone gathered for dinner.  Sturgis arrived with his carryon still slung over his shoulder.  He tucked it carefully beneath his chair as he sat.

"What's in the bag?" Harm asked.

Sturgis grinned. "You'll find out."

Harm and Mac exchanged looks.  "I'm not sure I like the sound of that," Harm told her in an undertone.  She smiled wanly.

Harm looked at her with concern.  "Is everything all right, Mac?"

Mac forced herself to nod.  Everything was _not_ all right, but there wasn't anything to be done about it.  She felt his hand on her waist, guiding her to her chair.  The touch sent shivers up her back that had nothing to do with the heavy air-conditioning inside the hotel. She wanted him with a depth of passion that was, in itself, a little scary, but she was far more afraid of _having_ him without the security of a commitment she knew he was unwilling to make.  Losing him would leave too many wounds in her heart. Whoever had said it was better to have loved and lost, she thought, was clearly out of his mind.

There was quite a bit of banter at the table, which Mac did her best to join in on.  Harm tolerated the teasing good-naturedly, and in return razzed Bud and Harriet mercilessly every time they had to address one of the higher ranking officers at the table by name.  Midway through the meal, a young woman approached the group, introducing herself as a reporter for _Entertainment Weekly_.  Another woman trailed her, bulky camera in hand.

"Do you mind if we take some pictures?" the first woman asked, displaying a perfect smile.

"Help yourself." The Admiral waved expansively.

Mac quickly stuffed her darker thoughts away.  It was time to act her part.  She leaned into Harm, smiling for the camera, and felt his lips brush her hair.

A few moments later, Sturgis leaned forward, tapping his fork against his wineglass.  The table quieted, and even the photographer paused as everyone turned to look.

Sturgis rose.  "I think I'm going to take this opportunity to fulfill my duty as best man and make a toast to the happy couple."  There were several pleased exclamations, though whether those were genuine or for the reporter's benefit, Mac couldn't guess.  While the smattering of talk died down, Sturgis snagged a passing waiter and spoke to the man in a low voice for a moment.  The waiter then nodded and left.

"Harm, what is he doing?" Mac murmured into her partner's ear, a smile plastered to her face.  They hadn't planned to do any of the traditional pre-wedding things, for obvious reasons.

"I have no idea," Harm answered in the same low tone.  "But I'm sure it'll end up embarrassing at least one of us, if not both."

"He does realize I've been trained to kill people with my bare hands, doesn't he?"

Harm chuckled.   "If you'd like, I can hold him down while you remind him."

That started Mac laughing.  She muffled it with one hand.

"Well, as you all know, Harm and I are friends from way back."  Sturgis swept his gaze around the table, ending up with Harm and Mac.  "We went to college together--"

"Where, I've heard, you two got into quite a bit of trouble," the Admiral interjected.

Sturgis grinned.  "That we did.  Harm kept coming up with these harebrained schemes--"

"_Me_?" Harm gave his friend a mock glare.  "Who was it that thought an unannounced fireworks display in the quad would be a good idea for Veteran's Day?"

Mac laughed as the Admiral winced.  They all knew the two had gone to the Naval Academy together, and what the reaction to unexpected explosions would have been _there_, Mac could easily imagine.  

"_Anyway,_" Sturgis went on with a grin.  "We were always getting into some kind of trouble, but the amazing thing was how often Harm managed to talk us out of it with that golden tongue of his."  He winked at his friend.  "The legal profession is definitely the place for you, buddy."

"Gee, thanks."

"Is this story going anywhere, Sturgis?" the Admiral asked, putting a little extra emphasis on Commander Turner's given name.

"Why, yes it is, A.J." Sturgis returned without batting an eye.  The JAG personnel snickered at the expression that flickered across the Admiral's face.  Sturgis turned back to his audience.

"Harm and I were Sophomores, I believe.  We'd just finished our semester finals, which, for various reasons, neither of us was certain we'd be present for, let alone pass.  But we did, so we decided to celebrate-- in style."  Sturgis grinned at the memory.  "We plunked down fifty bucks a piece on a very nice bottle of scotch which neither of us was old enough, at that point, to drink."  A few people shook their heads and made _tsk_ing sounds.  Sergei looked a bit baffled, but the concept of being too young to drink was an unfamiliar one to the Russian.

Sturgis' grin widened.  "It gets better.  Not only did we buy this bottle of scotch, but, in all our infinite wisdom, we decided to take it back to the dorm to drink it."

"You got caught, I hope."  Trish eyed her son and Sturgis as if debating which one to take to task first.  

  "Yes, ma'am, we did," Sturgis assured her.  "By possibly the biggest, meanest instructor in the school.  He was at least three inches taller than Harm, and probably weighed as much as the two of us combined."  Sturgis mimed a hulking muscleman.  "So he stands there, glowering, and demands to see what we have in the bag."  Mac had no trouble envisioning the scene and chuckled.  She'd met some pretty scary drill instructors in her time.

Sturgis shrugged.  "So of course, I show him.  I figured we were dead.  The instructor, he takes this deep breath, like he's getting ready to blast us… and then Harm jumps in."

"Uh oh…" Mac grinned at her partner, who was staring at Sturgis in a kind of mystified horror.

"Mr. Innocent, there, starts into this big spiel about how we two underage fellows surely wouldn't spend a hundred bucks on a bottle of scotch to _drink_ it.  Oh, no. That, instead, we'd been talking about the future-- particularly about women-- and debating whether there was such a thing as fate.  He tells the guy this with a straight face, do you believe, and then goes on to talk about soulmates and predestination and grand designs and a whole bunch of other romantic gobbledygook.  He tells the instructor that the scotch is for the day one of us finds the perfect woman, proving once and for all that there is such a thing as destiny.

"Now me," Sturgis went on, "I'm over there biting my tongue to keep from laughing.  But the instructor-- this huge gorilla of a man-- is all misty-eyed.  He's nodding at everything Harm says, like he agrees with every word."

"He let you go?" Bud asked Harm incredulously.

Laughing, Harm nodded.  "He let us go."  He switched his attention to Sturgis.  "I can't believe you remember that!"

"Even better," Sturgis assured him with a sly grin.  "I still have the bottle of scotch."  With that he bent down to retrieve a dark brown bottle from the bag he'd brought with him and set it on the table. The Admiral picked it up, examining the faded label with an expression of approval.

As if on cue, the waiter came back with a tray of empty glasses, which he distributed around the table.  At Sturgis' request, he opened the bottle for them before disappearing once again.

Mac and Harm both waited quietly while glasses were passed and poured.  Mac didn't take any, of course, which didn't bother anyone.  She was grateful her friends understood her problem with alcohol and didn't ever make her feel uncomfortable about it.  So, when Sturgis and the others raised their scotch glasses, she lifted the plain tonic she'd been drinking and waited to hear what he would say.  The reporter remained in the background, listening unobtrusively.  Mac was distantly aware of the flash and whir of the camera as the photographer captured the event.

Sturgis regained their attention, his expression growing solemn.  "Today seemed like the appropriate time to open this bottle."  He focused on Harm and Mac.  "I had pretty much given up on the idea that there might be such a thing as a perfect match… until I saw you two together."

Mac bit her lip, her heart pounding.  Beneath the table, Harm's fingers tightened painfully around hers.  Sturgis wasn't playing to the camera, they both knew.  The look in his eyes was far too penetrating.

Sturgis's voice became contemplative.  "And so, here is my toast: Harm, Mac… you two have something that only a few people will ever be so fortunate as to find.  Don't take it for granted.  I wish you both a lifetime of love and joy… and I can only hope that I will someday be as lucky."  He raised his glass.  "To you both."

"Hear, hear."  The agreement echoed around the table, accompanied by the clinking of glasses.

Mac risked a look at Harm.  She wanted to see in his eyes that Sturgis was right, that it was worth the risk.  Instead, when he met her gaze, his blue eyes were shadowed and filled with a quiet apology. Bitter disappointment filled her.  

"Are you even going to be able to make yourself _say_ the words tomorrow?" she asked in a fierce, angry whisper.  Without waiting to see his reaction, she tossed her napkin on the table and stood, her throat burning.

"Excuse me.  I'm just going to go the ladies room for a minute," she assured the group with a false smile.  She didn't really care where she went, so long as she could have a few minutes of solitude in which to compose herself.  Otherwise, she'd never be able to keep up the pretense.

Mac was nearly running by the time she reached the restroom.  As in many hotels, there was a small ante room that boasted a settee and a counter lined with gilt-framed mirrors.  Mac sank onto the couch and laid her head in her hands.  She began to cry, unable to contain the hurt any longer.

The door to the restroom opened.  Mac heard footsteps on the tiled floor, but didn't look up until she felt the weight of another person settle on the couch beside her.  Embarrassed, she tried to dry her eyes as Trish handed her a tissue.  Harm's mother smiled kindly.

"It's all right, dear.  I don't think I've ever heard of a bride who didn't cry at least a little on the day before her wedding."

Mac stared at her, taken aback.  For a moment, she couldn't bring herself to continue the lie, no matter who might be listening.  "I'm not his bride and you know it!"

At Trish's pained expression, Mac's anger crumbled.  She shook her head.  "I'm so sorry to be putting you through this, Trish.  I know how much you want to see Harm find someone…" She couldn't hold the other woman's gaze and looked away.

Trish pursed her lips.  "You don't think he has?"

Mac's throat closed painfully tight.  She swallowed hard against a fresh round of tears and shook her head, unable to speak.

Trish's expression didn't change.  "He loves you, you know."

Mac nodded.  "I know," she managed.  She twisted the tissue in her hands until it began to tear.  "That doesn't mean he's willing to commit to me."

Trish snorted sourly.  "Well, if there's anything my son is afraid of, that would be it," she agreed.

Mac looked up at her, surprised to find such a sympathetic spirit in Harm's mother.  

Trish smiled at her.  "To be honest, I wouldn't have believed it, either, particularly with the rest of what's going on."  Mac understood she meant the investigation.  "Except for one thing."

Mac's heart stuttered a beat.  "What?"

"This."  Trish reached over to take Mac's left hand in her own and turned it to display the engagement ring she'd grown so accustomed to wearing.  Mac looked at her hand, then glanced questioningly at Trish.

"Ah.  He didn't tell you, did he."  It wasn't a question.

"Tell me what?"  Hope and suspicion warred in her heart, fighting for dominance.

Trish smiled wistfully.  She touched the ring.  "Harm's father gave this to me when he asked me to marry him."  She met Mac's gaze with an expression that was both beautiful and sad.  "When I decided to remarry, I gave it to Harm… to give to his wife."

For a moment, Mac couldn't breathe.  Her fingers curled involuntarily around the ring that had suddenly taken on so much meaning.  

"I wasn't even certain he still had it," Trish continued, her tone reflective.  "I hadn't seen it since then."

Mac was struck by the inconsistency of the statement.  "What about Diane?" she blurted, then wondered if she sounded like a jealous fool.

Trish chuckled.  "No, he didn't give this ring to her.  Hmmm. That _is_ interesting, isn't it?  It never occurred to me."  She sighed, studying Mac intently.  "You do look like her.  I remember Harm telling me how uncanny the resemblance was, but I didn't believe him until I saw you myself."

Mac chewed on her lip.  "What was she like?"  _Am I really a ghost of his past?_  She had convinced herself otherwise long ago, but now the doubts resurfaced.

Trish patted her hand.  "Diane was a lovely girl."  Her smile deepened.  "But you, Mac… you're something truly special.  Harm is very luck to have you."

Mac felt a surge of gratitude toward the woman beside her.       On impulse, she hugged her.  "Thank you."

Trish returned the embrace.  "You're welcome, dear.  Now, shall we go finish dinner?"

Mac wiped her nose, sniffling.  "I think I need a few minutes."

"Of course."  Trish gave her a gentle smile.  "I'll head back to make sure they don't send out a search party."

Mac nodded.  When Trish was gone, she sat and stared at the floor, her eyes idly tracing the carpet's fleur de lis pattern.  For some reason, Mic's voice kept repeating in her head, telling her she only agreed to marry him because she was afraid to be alone.

_Is that what I'm doing now?_ she wondered.  _Is that why I want this with Harm so much?_ The tissue in her hands was quickly becoming a pile of lint.  She went to throw it away in a nearby trashcan.

_No_, she decided finally.  _I love him.  _It felt good to admit that to herself, and she smiled.  _With everything in me, I love him.  I'm just angry because he's not ready to love me the same way, yet.  _She stared at her reflection in one of the oval mirrors.  All her life, Mac had dealt with the hurt and disappointment of those she loved not returning that love they way they were supposed to.  Nothing she had ever done-- not becoming a highly-decorated Marine officer, nor a superb lawyer-- had ever made her parents love her the way she wanted to be loved.  Completely.  Unconditionally.  

In Harmon Rabb, she'd found one person who just might love her that way, if he could overcome his own demons.  It was hard to hope, though, when she'd bee hurt so often.

Mac sighed.  _But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that I can't _make_ Harm do anything.  Maybe I need to be willing to _be_ alone, and be patient, until that time comes._

Resolved, she spent a moment touching up her makeup, then headed back to the party.


	12. [12]

Chapter 12

After everyone else had gone to bed, Harm, Mac, Sturgis and Chegwidden gathered in the Admiral's room to talk business.  Harm was struck by how strange it felt to be back in the real world.  He hardly remembered the last time it had seemed… inappropriate to hold Mac's hand, or trail his fingers across the back of her neck, or any of a dozen other small demonstrations of affection that had recently filled their everyday lives.  

At the moment, Mac was seated in one of the room's plush chairs while Harm leaned against the edge of the nearby desk.  Sturgis occupied the end of the bed.

The Admiral rummaged through his luggage, eventually emerging with two black, hard plastic cases, which he laid out on the bed next to Sturgis.  

"Wedding presents," he told Harm and Mac.  With a glance at his partner, Harm went to investigate.  He flipped open the first case to reveal a Beretta nine-millimeter pistol with two clips and ammunition, all packed in gray foam.  The second case held a military issue satellite phone with battery pack.

"Since you two will be totally incommunicado for the next six weeks, I thought these might come in handy."  The Admiral hooked a chair with his foot and seated himself.  Harm closed the cases. 

"Should we make regular contact?" Mac asked.

Chegwidden shook his head.  "No.  Too risky.  I wasn't certain you'd have a means of using the satphone without being observed, anyway."

Harm returned to his place by the desk.  "The heads are unmonitored, but that's about it.  I don't totally buy Steiner's promises about the cabin cameras."

"'Bathrooms', Harm."  Mac glanced up at him.  "'Head' is a naval term.  You're not supposed to know a lot about boats."

"They're ships."  The correction was automatic.

"See?"  She grinned at him.

Harm accepted the demonstration with a rueful nod.  He was going to have to be careful.  He'd lived at sea on carriers for years while he was still a fighter pilot, and had his own fair share of Navy pride.

The Admiral leaned forward.  "The good thing about the way they do this show is that we'll be able to keep tabs on you just by watching the broadcasts."  He knit his fingers together in front of him.  "The lag is going to be about four days, though, which is why I want you to have a way of making immediate contact if you get into trouble."  _Temptation Cruise II_ would be aired approximately "live" every Monday and Thursday night.  Tony Ariel and his staff would be on board the ship with the contestants.  They were responsible for all the filming and also for sorting through the reams of tape for interesting segments to forward to Steiner's crew to assemble into the actual broadcast.

"What's the word on keeping Tony Ariel isolated?" Harm asked.  Steiner had assured them that he would have total control over any media information or personal contact the director had.  The ports of call were fairly remote locations, but each required a crew of people to do preparatory set up, as well as catering and other such behind-the-scenes support functions.  None of the JAG officers believed Harm and Mac's covers would withstand media scrutiny for the entire six weeks, so the threat of Ariel discovering who they were was a credible one.  It had already taken a few favors in high places to keep the media from sniffing down the right paths.

"Webb said he'd take care of it," the Admiral told them.

Mac frowned.  "The CIA doesn't usually get involved in criminal investigations.  It's a bit outside their venue."

The Admiral smiled.  "True.  He's planning to run it as a training op for some of his young agents.  He said to tell you both to consider it his wedding gift."

Harm gave a strained laugh.  "You people are all having way too much fun with this."

At that, Sturgis grinned.  "I met Clayton Webb not too long ago.  Interesting guy.  Did you know the CIA has a pet name for this little outfit?" He made a circular motion with one finger to indicate the four of them.

"Really?"  The Admiral didn't sound thrilled.  "What is it?"

"They call you the Combat Lawyers.  Apparently, the three of you have seen a pretty significant amount of action." 

Harm, Mac and Chegwidden traded looks.  Yes, you could probably say that, Harm thought.  

"Back to business," the Admiral said briskly, dismissing the topic.  "I called in a favor with the Coast Guard.  They're going to keep the _Radiant Heart_ under fairly close observation, so they'll be nearby if you need them.  I've programmed the phone with the number for the watch office at MSO Tampa.  They'll know who you are."

Harm looked at Chegwidden in surprise.  

"Isn't that a bit extreme?" Mac asked, beating him to the punch.  "Despite the fact that this is a rape investigation, there's no evidence to suggest we'll encounter any kind of violent behavior.  According to Mrs. Antony, she was drugged, not subdued."

"Call it a safety net."  The Admiral leaned back in his chair, stretching.  "Between them, Steiner and Ariel control everything that happens on that ship.  I don't want to take any chances."

"Understood, sir."  Mac stifled a yawn.

Harm suddenly realized how tired he was.  "Is there anything else we need to know?" he asked the Admiral.

Chegwidden paused, then nodded.  "One more thing."  He seemed suddenly uncomfortable, and Harm's stomach knotted in trepidation.

_Uh oh, here it comes_, he thought.

The Admiral pinned the partners with a frank stare.  "I know this assignment has dipped into some pretty gray areas for the both of you.  Speaking personally, I have no problem with anything you choose to do in this situation.  I have spoken briefly with my superiors concerning some of the legal and ethical ramifications, and have received assurances that nothing that happens during the course of this investigation will affect either your careers or your positions at JAG."

Harm kept his attention focused on the Admiral to avoid looking at Mac.  Their working relationship had always been an issue when it came to their feelings for each other.  In some ways it was the core of their friendship, something they were afraid to sacrifice even for love.  Was the Admiral really saying they could have both?

Chegwidden studied the two silent officers for a moment, then shrugged.  "Well, I suppose that's the reaction I was expecting, but I thought it needed to be said.  Make of it what you will."

Harm and Mac both nodded.

Sturgis broke the awkward silence.  "Hey, Mac. Do you mind if I drag this guy out for a beer before calling it an evening?"  He pointed at Harm.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, but gave Sturgis a neutral smile.  "Just don't keep him out too late."  She looked up at Harm.  "Tomorrow's going to be a busy day."

To Harm's surprise, there was no significant look attached to the comment.  Whatever pain she carried-- and Harm knew it was there.  He wouldn't feel that sharp stab of guilt if she didn't-- she wasn't lashing out at him.

Instinctively, he reached out to stroke her hair.  She looked tired.  "You going to bed?" 

"Yeah."  She stood and went to retrieve the two cases of equipment.  "I'll go ahead and pack these with our stuff.  Goodnight, all."  She nodded to the Admiral and Sturgis, kissed Harm lightly, and left.

After the door clicked shut, Chegwidden turned to Harm.  "It's really none of my business, but you are a fool if you let her get away, Commander."

Harm couldn't help a bitter laugh.  "Yes, sir."

Sturgis stood.  "Why don't we go get that beer."

Harm looked doubtfully at his friend.  "You're not going to lecture me, are you?"

Sturgis smiled.  "Only if I have to, my friend.  Only if I have to."

#

"All right, spit it out."  Harm stared at the bottle in his hands rather than at his friend.  They were seated at the end of the hotel bar, well away from any other patrons.

Sturgis gave him an innocent look.  "Spit what out?"

Harm chuckled.  "Nice try, Sturg."

The handsome black man laughed with him, but then his humor died.  "Do you love her?" he asked plainly.

Harm sighed.  He was tired of trying to avoid that one.  "Yes."

"So what's the problem?"

Harm stared into the mirror behind the bar.  "Who says there's a problem?"

Sturgis laughed, the sound vaguely mocking.  "If there wasn't a problem, you'd both be glowing tonight.  Especially Mac.  But the last time I checked, it looked like the only reason she's still holding it together is because she's too stubborn to quit."

Harm closed his eyes for a moment against the pain that statement generated.  "That's Mac," he agreed.

Sturgis turned to look at him, anger highlighting his features.  "I'm not going to have to hit you to get through that thick skull, am I?"

Harm met his gaze.  "No, Sturgis," he answered patiently.  "I hear you loud and clear."  But how did he explain the absolute, numbing terror he felt any time he got close to this issue?

Sturgis gave him an evaluating look.  "She's not going to die," He said quietly.

Oddly, Harm wasn't surprised his friend had figured it all out so quickly.  He knew Harm's obsession with his father's disappearance.  He'd been there when Diane was killed. He understood.

"She almost bled to death in my arms," Harm pointed out.  

Sturgis wisely didn't try to argue an irrefutable fact.  "She's not going to die," he repeated.

"You can't promise that.  Diane did.  Jordyn did."  Harm had to resist the urge to clench his hands into fists.  The fury he felt at the injustice of those deaths hadn't dimmed with the passage of time.  Neither had the feeling that some part of himself had been torn away.

Sturgis sighed.  "Here's a different question for you, then-- Do you think you will ever, in your lifetime, find a better woman than Mac?"

Harm snorted.  "No."

"Can you even _imagine_ being with another woman after her?"

"We're not lovers, Sturgis." The admission tasted bitter on Harm's tongue. He glanced at his friend.

Sturgis shrugged.  "Doesn't matter.  And you haven't answered my question."

Harm looked down at his beer.  Could he imagine other lips?  A different smile?  Another laugh?  Some other body molded against his, smelling of coffee and cinnamon?

"No." He took a drink of his beer, deciding then that self-pity really wasn't going to help.  He cracked a smile, trying to lighten his mood.  

"Being in love isn't supposed to be this hard, is it?"

Sturgis chuckled.  "Having never been there myself, I'm hardly qualified to say."

"So what would you do, if you were me?"  He met Sturgis' gaze.

Sturgis frowned as if the answer were obvious.  "I'd marry her and live happily ever after."

"Well, I don't suppose I've got a choice on that first part."  Harm bit his lip after he said it.  _There I go with the self-pity again._  He saw an answering flash of anger in Sturgis' eyes.

"Oh, I think you have a choice," the other man told him.  "I don't think you're going to back out of the investigation, so I guess you don't have much choice whether or not to say the words… but you do have to choose whether or not you're going to _mean_ them."

Harm stared at his friend.  The rebuke stung, though he suspected he deserved it.  All the years with Mac-- dancing precariously along the cliff edge between friendship and love-- flashed through his mind.  It really had come down to this, hadn't it?  One choice.  Jump or don't.  In the past, not jumping had always resulted in an acceptable status quo-- friendship with the thought that, maybe, someday, they'd find their way to that other place, the one at the bottom of the long, scary drop.   But now the cliff edge was crumbling.  They weren't going to be able to stay balanced there much longer.

_One choice._  Harm stared at his reflection._  It really is pretty simple, after all._  


	13. [13]

Chapter 13

Mac adjusted the fall of her long white skirt with nervous fingers.  The silk hem whispered across the sand, barely heard above the gentle rush of waves clambering up the shore.  A breeze off the water kissed her bare shoulders, tugging at the gossamer veil that tumbled to the ground behind her.  She breathed in the salt-smell of the ocean and listened for a moment to the piercing cries of gulls.  The sun warmed her skin, promising to become hot as the morning progressed.  

Beside her, Harm stood quietly.  He'd been quiet all morning-- subdued, even.  Mac hadn't asked.  She was having trouble keeping her emotions in check already.  Fighting with him would only make the difficult impossible.

Harm was dressed in a classic tuxedo.  Mac detested it.  Not because he didn't look good in it, but simply because it wasn't dress whites.  _Dress whites and gold wings… _In the wedding photos her mind conjured for her, he was always clad in the dignified splendor of his dress uniform.

She pushed the thought away with determination.  Dwelling on should-be's was a dangerous pastime.  

The minister, a grandfatherly man with a thick mane of white hair, stood before them, Bible poised in his hands.  Mac was distantly aware of Harriet standing a pace behind and to her right, and Sturgis off to Harm's side. Harm's family, the Admiral, Bud and Gunny watched from behind.  Cameras ringed them.  

For Mac, the moment seemed frozen in time.  She wanted to scream at them all to _stop!_ That this was wrong, all wrong.  But it was far too late for that.  She had a part to play.  She had her lines memorized-- vows Bud and Harriet had, mercifully, written for the two of them.  And so she would repeat the words, with ashes on her tongue and bitterness in her soul, and wonder if they could ever recover from this day.

The minister opened his mouth to speak the first words of the ceremony.  As he did, Harm suddenly came to life.  

"Wait!"  He held up one hand, forestalling the minister.  "Could you… just… hold that thought for a minute?"  

The interruption jarred Mac. Heart pounding, she turned to him, hardly daring to hope.

He grinned, showing his trademark little boy smile.  "I'll be right back."  He released her arm, then turned and walked away, cutting between Sturgis and the surprised minister.  His long strides took him quickly down the beach, his head turning from side to side as if he were looking for something.

Mystified, Mac looked at Sturgis.  "Where is he going?"

Sturgis shook his head as he watched Harm's retreating figure.  "I hate to say it, Mac, but I think the stress may have driven your man there around the bend."

For a moment, she was convinced Harm was just going to walk away.  But then he stopped, scooped something up out of the sand and headed back.  When he got close, she discovered he'd fetched a long, slender piece of driftwood.

Mac blinked.  "A stick?"

"Yep."

"…"

"Patience, Mac."  Using the tip of the stick, he drew a long slash in the sand beyond the place where Sturgis stood watching him with a bemused expression.  Walking backwards, he turned ninety degrees to continue the line behind the minister, then up the side next to Harriet, and across the back, completing a passable square around the wedding party.  Then, apparently satisfied, he tossed the driftwood down on the sand and returned to Mac's side.

She stared at him.

He winked, his blue eyes laughing.  "Work with me here, Mac.  It's a porch."  He spread his hands.  "Best I could do on the spur of the moment."

_A porch._  Their one and only place of honesty.  

He looked directly into her eyes, his voice soft.  "I told you I never make a promise I can't keep."

Mac couldn't breathe.  In an instant, her world turned inside out and upside down.  Her heart soared.

"I'm not dreaming, am I?" she asked him.

"No, you're not."  Harm drew her close, his expression growing serious.  "I'm sorry it took me so long to figure this out."  He touched her cheek.  "I love you."

Pure, joyous laughter bubbled up out of her.  "I love you, too, Harm."

She hooked her arms around his neck as he bent toward her.

"Ahem."

Startled, they turned to look at the minister.

He smiled kindly at them, his eyes dancing with amusement.  "If you don't mind, I need to say a few words first before we move on to the kissing part."

Mac ducked her head, laughing in embarrassment.  

Trying rather unsuccessfully to look decorous, Harm hooked her arm through his and turned them to face the minister.  Mac gripped his arm with one hand and her bouquet of roses with the other as if they were the only things that kept her from floating away.

The minister straightened his shoulders, glanced at the Bible in his hands, then looked out over the small crowd.  "Dearly beloved," he began in a solemn voice, "we are gathered her today… on this porch, apparently… to unite this man and this woman in holy matrimony."  

"I'll be very interested to hear the story behind that one," Mac heard Sturgis comment in an undertone.

The minister continued with the ceremony, explaining the sanctity of marriage, admonishing both of them to live up to the vows they were making, and promising them God's blessing on the family they were becoming.  Mac clung tightly to Harm to keep herself upright.  _Family._  She hadn't thought beyond the turmoil of her relationship with him to see the full implications of marriage.  She would have parents again… Frank and Trish already treated her like a daughter, more so than her own parents ever had.  She would have a brother-- sweet, loyal Sergei-- and she would have Harm.  Her husband.  Her partner.  Someday, the father of her children.  That was more family than Mac had ever dreamed of having.

 At the proper time Harm turned to Sturgis, accepting from him a slender gold band.  He turned back to Mac, taking her hand.  His gaze delved into hers, endlessly blue.

"Sarah, I give you this ring as a symbol of my undying devotion…"

_He called me Sarah._  The sound of her name had never been sweeter, nor held so much meaning.  

"I promise to be your faithful husband, to love you-- and only you-- for all the days of my life…"

Tears misted Mac's vision as Harm slid the ring onto her finger.  His thumb brushed her palm, sending an electric thrill up her arm.  Then it was her turn.

"Harm, I give you this ring as a symbol of my undying devotion…"

_No matter how many times we've hurt each other, I never doubted that you would be there for me when I needed you, or that I would be there for you._

"I promise to be your faithful wife, to love you-- and only you-- for all the days of my life…"

_I've never loved anyone else.  I never will._

She slipped the ring onto his finger with a smile that nothing could dim.  Hands clasped, they stared into each other's eyes.

Nearly forgotten, the minister closed his Bible.  His voice rang out over them.  "Therefore, by the authority invested in me by the state of Florida, I now pronounce you husband and wife."  He leaned forward, nodding conspiratorially.  "_Now_ it's the kissing part."

Laughing, they did exactly that.  Mac threw her arms around her husband's neck and felt his arms close around her waist, nearly lifting her off the ground in an expression of pure joy.  His mouth fastened on hers, sweet and intense. Mac responded hungrily, secure in the knowledge that Harmon Rabb, Jr. was hers to love-- now and forever.

#

Harm was getting dizzy.  He was alternately hugged and pounded on the back by what seemed like an entire horde of people, though he knew in reality there were less than a dozen.  

"Buddy, you really had me worried for a minute, there," Sturgis said after embracing Harm rather forcefully.

Harm's smile dimmed for a moment.  "Me, too."  He lowered his voice.  "I almost made the biggest mistake of my life today."

Sturgis' smile didn't change.  "Considering some of the stupid things you've done, that's saying a lot.  But I must say I agree."  They both turned to look at Mac.  She stood a few feet away, talking animatedly with Harriet, Harm's mother and Frank.

"What changed your mind?"

Harm stared at Mac for a moment.  The white gown set off the coppery tone of her skin and made her dark hair and eyes glow.  But it was her radiant smile that captured him.  He had never seen a pure smile from her, one untouched by secret pain.  Not until today.

He turned to look out over the water.  "Have you ever come to a point where you realized that what you were about to do violated absolutely every principle of honor or decency you thought you lived your life by?"

Sturgis nodded, his expression somber.  "Yes, though I was contemplating killing someone, not marrying them."  After a moment, his smile reappeared.  "You're a lucky man, Harm."  He clapped him on the shoulder.

Harm grinned.  "I'm not going to disagree with you there."

The Admiral joined them on the heels of his statement.  Smiling with evident satisfaction, he laid a hand on either man's shoulder.  

"Congratulations, Harm."  

"Thank you."  It took an effort not to add the "sir" that belonged on the end of the sentence.

The Admiral turned to Sturgis.  "And congratulations to you, too, Sturgis, for whatever you said in that 'lecture' of yours.  It obviously worked."

Sturgis waved his words away.  "I don't think I had much to do with it."

While they talked, Selena began gently shooing them all away from the ring of cameras so another couple could take their turn.  Harm shook his head at the insanity of it.  Only a couple of miles down the beach, he could see the huge wharf complex and the white silhouette of the _Radiant Heart_ in her berth.  

"What have I gotten us into?" he muttered to himself.

A short distance away, Mac caught the direction of his gaze and lifted an eyebrow.  

Harm went to stand beside her.  "We don't have to do this, Mac," he said quietly.  "I'll take you anywhere on the planet you want to go for a honeymoon-- just name it."

She looked up at him, the warmth of her gaze tempered by solemn consideration of his words.  Finally she shook her head.  "I'd like nothing more, Harm.  I really would.  But we have a million dollars to win," she said in the same tone of voice she would have said, "We have a job to do," had they been alone.

Harm hugged her gratefully.  He would have abandoned the investigation rather than risk his relationship with Mac, but his conscience would have nagged him incessantly had he done so.  Mac understood him well.

After he and Mac had said their goodbyes and been showered by the obligatory rain of birdseed (rice being inappropriate because it tended to choke wild birds), they climbed in their limousine for the short ride to the cruise ship.  Once inside, it took Harm about twenty seconds to string together three very important realizations: One, that Mac was now his wife.  Two, that they were alone in the back of the limousine.  And Three, that he had absolutely no reason in the world left for not kissing her.  So he did.  Mac responded ardently, as eight years of repressed longing found their first taste of freedom.

They were both breathless by the time the limousine pulled to a stop.  Harm took one look at the people and cameras crowding around them and groaned. 

"Just a few more minutes?"  He traced Mac's collarbone with the fingers of one hand, then kissed the point of her shoulder.  "We're not going to get another chance to be alone until tonight."  Having wasted so many years already, the additional delay seemed excruciating.

Mac laughed deep in her throat, her gaze promising a great deal once that time arrived.  "We mustn't leave our public waiting," she joked, affecting a starlet's breathy voice.

Harm gave her his best leer.  "I'll make it worth your while to have the driver go around the block a couple of times."

"Mmmm.  Tempting." Mac kissed him soundly.  "But how 'bout we have him drive around the _city_ a couple of times and I'll make it worth _your_ while instead?"  

"You know," Harm said when next his mouth was free, "this brings an entirely new dimension to the idea of negotiating plea bargains with you."

Mac laughed.  "C'mon."  She sat up, drawing him with her.  "I'm sure everyone out there is wondering just what we're up to."  She grinned as she fixed his tie.  

For a moment, her smiled dimmed.  When he gave her a questioning look, she slid her hands down the front of his jacket and she shook her head.  "Should've been white," was all she said, though her eyes expressed much more.  They had finally found each other, but the circumstances were far from perfect.

He cupped her cheek.  "If we started counting 'should've's, we'd be here all week," he told her softly.  "Which is more my fault than yours.  I wish I could go back and change those things, but all I can do is tell you I love you, Sarah MacKenzie, and I don't plan to ever let another 'should've' come between us."

Mac stared at him for a moment.  Then her face lit with a smile.  "It's Sarah _Rabb_, now."  She wagged a playful finger at him.  "And don't you forget it." 

"Never," he promised, grinning.


	14. [14]

Chapter 14

Harm and Mac emerged from the limo to a sea of faces.  At their feet, an actual, honest-to-goodness red carpet ran up the steps to the doors of the wharf complex.  Gilded ropes held back the crowd of well-wishers and fans, some of whom seemed inexplicably delirious at the Rabbs' arrival.  Paparazzi lined the space inside the ropes, their flashes half-blinding the two.  Harm and Mac had endured media storms before, during cases that had drawn significant public attention, but luckily these were entertainment reporters rather than their more politically aware brethren.

"This is insane!" Mac hissed as they shouldered their way through the crowd, ignoring the typically stupid questions.  "Don't these people have lives of their own?"

"Almost makes you pity actors, doesn't it."  Harm kept one arm protectively around her as they made their way inside, despite the fact that Mac could have cut an admirable swath through the mass of people with a judicious application of her Marine training.  He often wondered why he felt so tremendously protective toward a woman who could generally take care of herself.

Inside, they breathed a collective sigh of relief.  They found Selena there ahead of them, waiting to lead them to the _Radiant Heart_.  The interior of the building looked much like an airport concourse, with cheap carpeting and rows of thinly padded chairs grouped around the various terminals.  Today the building was empty save for a few security guards who wandered about, looking bored.

Hand in hand, Harm and Mac climbed the gentle slope of the boarding ramp.  At the top, a group of stewards and the captain of the ship waited for them in time honored tradition.  Harm knew he was supposed to stroll onto the ship like any other ignorant civilian, but his feet refused to obey.  He hit the top of the ramp and stopped, one step from boarding the _Radiant Heart_. Mac paused, too, and looked questioningly at him.

Harm squeezed her hand by way of silent apology.  He nodded to the captain.  "Permission to come aboard, sir?"

The captain, a tall, distinguished looking man in his mid-sixties, flashed them a warm grin.  "Permission granted."  He held out his hand.  "I'm Frederick Baxter, Captain of the _Radiant Heart_."

Harm stepped aboard, feeling the subtle change as he moved from land to ship. He took the proffered handshake.

"A pleasure to meet you, Captain.  I'm Harmon Rabb and this is my wife, Sarah."  Just saying the words made something in him soar.

Mac shook the captain's hand as well, her expression schooled. 

"The pleasure's all mine," Captain Baxter assured them.  "It's not often I meet a young person who knows proper etiquette for boarding a ship.  Usually it's the old sea dogs like me."

Harm did his best to cover his tracks.  He shrugged.  "I defended an 'old sea dog', as you call them, once.  I guess he made an impression on me."

The captain simply nodded and Harm and Mac followed one of the stewards on into the interior of the ship. 

"That wasn't very bright," Mac murmured after they'd gained some distance from the greeting party.

"Sorry, I just couldn't be that rude," Harm whispered back.

Mac rolled her eyes, but then smiled.  "Well, if there's one thing I love about you, it's your sense of chivalry."

Harm felt her words sink in.  "Say that first part again."

"What?"

"The part about you loving me."

Mac flushed, but her expression could have put a small sun to shame.  Together they paused, caught up in the moment.  

Selena stopped a few paces away and folded her arms across her stomach, doing her best to become part of the furnishings.  Her job was to be unobtrusive while still getting her wards to their appointments on time.  It was her judgement that determined if this moment should be allowed to continue uninterrupted, captured by the cameras in the hall.  And this interlude, she decided, would make great t.v.

Mac looked up into Harm's eyes, her expression appraising.  After a few moments of that, Harm cocked an eyebrow, knowing Mac would understand the question.

She smiled a bit wistfully.  "I was just trying to figure out when it was that I really fell in love with you."

"Oh, really?  When did you?" Harm asked with a sense of delight.

She gave him a half smile.  "I'm not sure.  It was sometime before Sydney, though."  She shook her head.  "I was _so_ hurt you turned me down that night."

Harm felt the familiar pang.  "I thought we weren't going to go counting should've's anymore."

Mac didn't react to the reproach in his voice.  She shook her head lightly.  "I'm not sure that one counts.  It probably would have wrecked our careers."

"On the other hand, it would have kept you from getting involved with Brumby."  Something he would have done anything to prevent had he known how serious the relationship would become. 

Mac heaved a sigh at the mention of Brumby's name.  "Well, I suppose I'm going to have to admit this sometime, so it might as well be now."  Her body language shifted, took on a slightly defensive edge.

Harm watched her warily.  "Admit what?"  

"That, subconsciously, at least, I got involved with Mic in the hopes of making you jealous."

Harm didn't have an immediate answer.  His thoughts went back to the day Mac had shown up with a diamond ring on her _right_ hand.  It had felt like a slap in the face.  Like a taunt.  _Which is exactly what it was_, he realized.  '_Come and get me if you want me'._  Pride had made him back away.  He'd seen the attempt at coercion as a power play rather than a desperate act, but even so, he wasn't certain he would have responded differently.

Harm couldn't help the sharp edge to his voice as old anger resurfaced.  "It worked."

"Not well enough, obviously."  She crossed her arms.

Harm kept a tight rein on his temper.  "You were trying to manipulate me, Mac.  What did you want me to do?  Crawl on my hand and knees to your doorstep and beg you to choose me instead of him?"

Mac gave him a look filled with bitterness.  "No, the mighty Harmon Rabb, Jr. would never stoop so low, would he?"  

Harm nearly lost it.  The flash of fury sent adrenaline pouring into his system, demanding action.  

"You're still a mean drunk, Mac."  The words came out clipped, harsh.

Mac's head snapped back as if he'd slapped her.  "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means the only time you ever accuse me of being self-righteous is when you're dead wrong and don't want to admit it."  

They glared at each other for a long moment.  Mac faltered first and looked away.  She swallowed hard, nodded.

"You're right.  I'm sorry."

Harm's anger began to drain away.  "Me, too."

Mac glanced at him, her dark eyes wounded.  "For what?"

He shrugged.  "For not kissing you senseless on that ferry, for starters."

Mac smiled weakly.  "I would have liked that." She let out her breath in a gusty sigh.  "Of all the days to be arguing…" She shook her head sadly.

Harm's mouth twisted in a sour smile.  "We've been fighting like cats and dogs for eight years, Mac.  You didn't think it was going to stop just because we got married, did you?"

She snorted softly.  "I suppose two miracles in one day _is_ a bit much to expect."

Harm caught her waist to pull her to him.  "At least we got the most important one," he said.

Mac molded her slender frame against him, tucking her head beneath his chin.  Harm hugged her and laid his cheek against her hair.  The tight bands around his chest began to loosen.

"I suppose there's one benefit to fighting so much," Mac said against his chest, her tone thoughtful.

Harm looked down at her.  "What's that?" he asked cautiously.

She tilted her head back to look into his face. "Making up." She grinned.

Harm felt a rush of pure relief.  "Why, Mac, is that an invitation?"

"Better believe it, flyboy."

Harm smiled at the challenge in her eyes. With a flourish, he dipped her there in the empty passageway.  He was delighted by the easy way she committed her weight to him, trusting him to keep them both balanced as they kissed.

Mac laughed as he pulled her upright once again.  Her deep brown eyes threatened to drown him, a fate he wasn't entirely certain he wanted to avoid.

"Can we officially declare this a fresh start?" Mac asked after a moment.  "Forget the past, wipe the slate clean, that sort of thing?"

Harm dragged himself out of her eyes.  "I'm not sure ignoring the past is such a wise idea," he countered. Denial hadn't done either of them any good that he could see.

Her face fell by degrees.  "There's just so much to deal with."  He could see the fear of more pain in her eyes.

Harm was a little surprised by the strength of his determination.  But he never had backed down from a promise once he made it.  "We have the rest of our lives to sort it all out, Mac."

"You think that'll be long enough?" she asked with a ghost of a smile.

Harm grinned at her.  "I guess we'll find out."

He was rewarded by a quiet laugh.

#

To Mac's dismay, the first contestants they ran into onboard were Boothe Crossby and Carmen Esperanza.  Boothe greeted them both with a charming civility that could have hidden anything beneath it.  Carmen kept her gaze almost exclusively on Harm, eyeing him as if she wondered how he would taste roasted over a slow flame with white wine sauce.  Mac had to resist the urge to shout "Mine!" and step protectively in front of her husband.  

Mac supposed she shouldn't be too surprised by Carmen's behavior.  Harm obviously fit her "type".  He and Boothe had been stamped from similar molds… tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed, and dangerously handsome, but Boothe was ruthless in a way Harm was not.  She found that observation interesting since Harm could play hardball with the best of them, whether in court or on the battlefield.  But, she had the feeling Boothe would willingly cross any moral line to gain his objectives, which Harm would never do.

Carmen she wasn't as certain about.  The other woman wore her sultry Latin beauty the way a whore wore her clothes. _Tawdry_ was the word that most often came to mind.  But she was paired up with a man like Boothe in what was basically a fidelity competition, so there had to be more to her than met the eye.  

Mac took the initiative.  "So, how is married life treating you so far, Carmen?" she asked in as friendly a manner as she could manage.

Carmen smiled, showing a flash of white teeth between succulent red lips.  "No complaints yet.  You?"

Mac grinned, figuring she could score more points with the truth.  "I think I'm in for a pretty wild ride," she confided.  That got a flicker of reaction from Carmen, though Mac couldn't identify the emotion that fueled it.  Jealousy, perhaps?  If men were trophies, then Boothe was the silver and Harm the gold, most definitely.  Mac doubted Carmen was used to having her man outclassed.

Mac chuckled to herself.  _And we accuse men of being territorial!_

Together, the two couples made their way to the deck to wait for the requisite waving and throwing of streamers as the harbor tugs pulled them away from the quay.  Carmen and Mac traded bits of gossip as they went.  Unfortunately, collecting gossip was an occupational hazard for Mac, but the skill served her well now.

On deck, they met Jeb and Stacy as well as a thirty-ish black couple named John and Delia Washington.  John was a professor at a community college outside Memphis.  Mac couldn't immediately remember what Delia did.  Interior design?  Something like that.

"Hey Cornpone!" Carmen greeted Jeb with the warmth of an older sister to her favorite little brother.  She was a strange one, Mac thought.  So far, her motives remained obscure, and her reactions to people seemed to vary by individual with no discernable pattern.

"Hi, Carmen."  Jeb's greeting was more restrained.  He seemed to take a prudently suspicious view of the older woman's friendly overtures.  Stacy watched with a narrow-eyed stare.

_Well,_ Mac thought, _if Carmen's goal is to antagonize all the other married women on this cruise, she's off to a good start._  That wasn't a bad analysis of her behavior, Mac decided after another moment's contemplation.  

The four couples chatted for a while as they watched the remaining limos make the trip from beach to the wharf, speculating on various strengths and weaknesses of the not-yet-arrived, and hashing out possibilities for the first competition, which was only two days away.  The winners would be able to pick their spouses' companion at their first port of call.

The thought of Harm going out with another woman, even on a supposedly innocent day trip, made Mac's stomach clench in sudden nausea.  She grabbed the deck rail and turned her face toward the ocean as she struggled to regain her composure.  There had been a lot of women for Harm.  Despite all her protests that it wasn't any of her business and that she didn't really care, Mac had kept a catalogue in her heart of each and every one.  There might have been a _few_ she never knew about, she conceded, but not very many.  The most frightening part was that Harm didn't _chase_ women.  He just didn't often say 'no' to an invitation. 

_Except for me._

"Hey, you o.k.?"  Harm came to stand beside her.  He rested his elbows on the rail, throwing her a worried glance.

Mac nodded quickly, trying to push her dark thoughts away.  "Yeah."  She met his gaze briefly, summoned a smile.  "I'm starting to realize just what we've gotten ourselves into."

He gave her a lopsided grin.  "Me, too."

Mac watched him intently.  "You scared?"

The blue eyes lit with mirth.  He leaned toward her, his shoulder brushing hers.  "Nah."

Mac smiled, though her heart remained heavy. "You mean you're not particularly intimidated by the prospect of battling off a ship full of dozens of beautiful women who will be throwing themselves at you for the next six weeks?"  She kept her tone light.

He arched one eyebrow and gave her his famous smile.  "And how would that be different from regular life?"

Mac punched him lightly in the shoulder.  "In your dreams, flyboy."

Harm chuckled.  "You're the one who's in my dreams, Mac."

It was much-needed reassurance.  Mac tilted her head back, giving him one of her best come-hither looks.  "Ooh.  Sweet talk will get you everywhere."  It felt strange to play this same old game, knowing that this time there were no uncrossable lines to keep Harm from taking her up on her offer.

He didn't disappoint her.  Straightening, he closed the distance between them.  Their lips met, the touch incendiary.  Mac reached up to encircle his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair as she pulled him closer.

Distantly, Mac heard laughter, particularly Delia's.  "Hoo, you _go_ girl!"

Laughing in embarrassment, Mac broke the kiss and hid her face against Harm's chest for a moment, her cheeks hot.  She could hear his heart pounding beneath her ear and felt the tension in his body that spoke to her own of barely restrained passion.  Mac's body answered in kind, and only the presence of the other couples and the two cameramen lurking in the near distance kept her from further action.  Her internal clock immediately told her how many hours they had left to wait until the cameras in their stateroom could be turned off.  After that, though…

Boothe's chuckle interrupted her lascivious thoughts.  "I do believe the Rabbs are going to present some rather stiff competition for the rest of us," he said in a dapper British accent, stroking an imaginary mustache.

Mac laughed with the rest, particularly when Harm added his own comments in her ear.

The rest of the day passed in agonizing slowness, but pass it did.  They stayed at the rail while the crew cast off, then went inside to explore the main portions of the ship, occasionally stealing kisses in shadowed corners and out-of-the-way places.  Dinner was served in the Grand Ballroom, followed by dancing.  Mac had always enjoyed dancing with her partner, perhaps because it had been the only acceptable outlet for their attraction for so many years.  But tonight it was foreplay, and they both knew it.  

During the course of the evening Mac's emotions swung from heated anticipation to nervous terror and back again more times than she could count.  Harm did an admirable job of keeping her distracted with a running commentary of lighthearted stories and jokes, though she had the feeling they were meant to distract him as much as her.  Mac had to smile at the babble.  Harm tended to chatter like a demented bluejay when he was nervous.  

They didn't leave the ballroom the moment the clock struck the appropriate hour.  That moment came and went, with neither of them making a significant overture.  Mac's stomach slowly tied itself in a knot.

_Now what?_ she wondered.

The music had slowed as the evening progressed.  Their dancing had followed suit, becoming more and more intimate.  Even Harm's constant chatter had fallen away.  Mac was acutely aware of every contact between them, from the light pressure of his fingertips on the small of her back to their clasped hands and the occasional brush of his hip against hers.  Eventually, Mac couldn't stand it any longer.

"Harm?" She pulled away slightly to look up at him.  

He met her gaze after a moment.  "Yeah, Mac?" She had the feeling he'd been a million miles away in his thoughts.

Mac discarded what she'd been about to say.  "What were you thinking about?" she asked instead.

He smiled, seeming abashed.  "Teaching my son to fly."

That wasn't what Mac had been expecting.  She wasn't sure _what_ she'd been expecting, but that definitely wasn't it.  The simple comment filled her with an intense rush of longing, joy and fear.  Her breath caught in her throat.

Harm's smile faded, replaced by an intense expression that turned Mac's knees to water.  She wasn't sure who initiated the kiss.  It ran from her lips to the tips of her fingers and toes like a bolt of lightning and left her breathless.

"Let's get out of here," Harm suggested when they parted.

Mac could only nod.  She'd waited so many years for this moment.  One by one the barriers separating them had fallen until there were none left.  

Together they sought their room, finally free to express their feelings for each other on a level that had no parallel, and to confirm the promises they had made in a language that had no words.


	15. [15]

Chapter 15

Mac woke to the glow of early morning sunlight falling across her face.  She stirred, instinctively turning to look for Harm.  She found him where she expected to, sleeping soundly beside her.  Mac resisted the impulse to reach over and tousle his dark hair.  Instead, she insinuated herself into his arms and wrapped her own around his chest.

His eyelids flickered, his grip tightening on her.

"Good morning," Mac said.

"Hey," was the groggy response.  Mac kept her chuckle to herself.  Their years of odd nights spent together on various missions had given her a misimpression of her husband.  He always slept like a cat when there was a possible threat.  Take away the tension, however, and the man turned into a bear.  A hibernating bear.  

Not that two mornings really qualified as a scientific survey, she amended.  And not that she'd been terribly interested in getting out of bed herself yesterday morning, either.  The memory elicited a smile.  

_This_ morning, however, was a different story.  She poked Harm gently in the ribs.  He grunted.

"Wake up, sleepyhead.  We're supposed to go running today."

Her answer was another grunt.  He rolled toward her, throwing an arm and a leg across her body and effectively pinning her to the bed.  "Whose crazy idea was that?" he mumbled into her hair.

Mac laughed.  "Yours."  They'd agreed early on that they were going to keep up a regular exercise regimen during the six-week cruise.  The ship had a jogging track that ran the perimeter of the lower deck as well as a lap pool and a weight room.

"I was obviously out of my mind."  He snuggled more closely against her.

Mac struggled to escape his grasp, without much success.  Harm had something like eighty pounds on her, which put her at a huge disadvantage if she wasn't willing to give him a set of bruises.  So she switched tactics and kissed him instead.

His response was immediate, ardent, and almost convinced Mac to forget about running.  Laughing, she struggled away from him and climbed off the edge of the bed.  "Exercise first, sex after," she promised.

Harm threw off the covers with a grin.  "Best motivational speech I've ever heard."  He followed her out of bed.

They dressed quickly and went up to the main deck.  The sun shone low in the cloudless sky, leaving a streak of orange across the green ocean waters. The air remained cool and fresh.  Mac took a deep breath, savoring it.

A cameraman showed up while they were still stretching and began his own limbering exercises.  Mac and Harm traded glances.  Poor guy.  Well, if he wanted to film them while they ran, he was welcome to try.  

"What do you think, Harm?  Five miles?"  

The cameraman gave her a look of horror.  Harm noted the reaction, grinned.  "Sounds good to me."

They started off at their normal pace.  It might be a bit of an exaggeration to say they ran together _regularly_, Mac thought, though once upon a time they had.  The last few years had strained their friendship to the breaking point, so naturally many of the things they'd once done together had fallen by the wayside as well.  She was looking forward to developing a new habit of running with Harm, and not just because she loved him.  Those long legs made him a challenge.

They chatted amiably as they ran, mostly about work.  Legalese worked as well as any secret code, with certain military-specific words excluded.  Mac already missed JAG and her job.  What she wanted most, really, was to take her husband and go _home_.  

That thought conjured a few new ones.

"You know, we never resolved the issue of where we're going to live once we get back," she said.  In fact, they'd never discussed anything of the sort, but she couldn't admit that in front of a camera.

Harm glanced at her, traces of surprise on his face.  Then he grinned.  "I think we should buy a house."

Mac nearly missed a step.  "A house?"  She started to laugh despite herself.  "You don't change your mind by half-measures, do you?"

"Nope."

Mac glanced behind them.

"How's our camera guy doing?" Harm asked.

"He's hanging in there."  He didn't look happy about it, though.

"You think if we cut him some slack he'd tell us what the competition is today?"

Mac checked the man behind them.  The sweating cameraman gave her a reproachful look.  "Doesn't look good," she decided.

Harm shrugged.  "Oh well."  He took a quick swig from his water bottle.  "Hey, Mac?"

"Yeah?"

"If by chance we win this thing today, who do you want?"

Mac turned her head to stare at him, trusting her peripheral vision to keep her from running into the ship's curved rail.  "_What?_"

He flashed her a guileless grin.  "Who do you want to spend the day with?"

Flabbergasted, Mac slowed. "You want me to pick?"

He shrugged.  "There's no reason your day has to be a total waste.  If there's somebody you think would be decent company… sure."  He eyed her oddly, as if puzzled by her reaction.

_He can't really be that naïve, can he?_  Or did he simply trust her that much?  A little overwhelmed by the possibilities, Mac forced herself to pick up her pace.  She opted to answer the question as asked, rather than digging for a deeper subtext.  This was Harm, after all.  

They'd been briefly introduced to all the designated singles on the ship.  Most of the men struck Mac as little more than hardbodies, and somewhat juvenile ones at that.  The few who were more her age seemed… mundane.  Of course, her basis for comparison was a fighter pilot turned lawyer who moonlighted as a paramilitary operative, and who had a nasty habit of nearly getting himself killed in his country's defense. So she supposed her evaluation might be a little skewed.

"How about Joe Vassilis?"  She didn't quite pick a name at random, but close enough.  Vassilis was an architect, something Mac had a mild interest in.

"O.k."

They ran in silence for a little while.  Mac knew she ought to reflect the question back at him, but wasn't sure she could.  Just the thought made everything inside her churn.

Eventually, Harm gave her a concerned look.  "Is that silence because you don't want to talk, or do we need to slow down?"  Not being able to talk while running was a good indicator that a person was pushing too hard.  Mac had to make a deliberate effort not to be insulted.

"I'm fine, Harm."

He shrugged.  "Then I suppose I'll have to shelve my lecture about cholesterol intake and cardiovascular health for the moment."

Mac rolled her eyes.  

Harm went on.  "But, since you're not having trouble breathing, you must be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you!"

Harm just looked at her.

"O.k.  I'm a little mad," she admitted. She increased speed, wishing she could run away from him.  

"Why?"

"_Why?_"

"That's what I said, Mac."  She could hear the tired patience in his voice.

Mac came to an abrupt halt and stared at him.  He returned the look, his gaze filled with curiosity, concern, and a hint of reproach.

"You really have no idea, do you?"

"Not unless you care to explain it to me."  His voice held an edge that had been missing a few moments earlier.  Now he was getting angry.

Mac couldn't help her incredulity.  It bubbled out of her in groaning laughter.  She tipped her head back, fighting with herself.  _Be constructive, Sarah._  She wanted to lash out at him, just because that was her defense mechanism.  But she'd committed her heart to him-- she could no longer maintain a perimeter fence around it to keep herself safe.

She sighed.  "All right.  I… don't know how this is going to sound, though."

Hands on hips, Harm looked at the deck.  "Fair enough.  We don't exactly have a great track record for these kinds of conversations."

_Too true_, Mac thought.  She wondered how much difference it would make that they were married now.  

She took a deep breath.  "Have you ever noticed that you get a lot of attention from women?"

Harm looked up at her from under his eyebrows, his expression a mixture of surprise and innocence.  "Moi?"

Mac found she could laugh.  She wagged a finger at him, playing along.  "Don't try to deny it.  I don't think there's a woman in the world who doesn't go a little weak in the knees around you."

He chuckled.  "You're exaggerating."

"No, I'm not.  Name me one woman who hasn't ever shown the least interest in you."

"Harriet."

It was Mac's turn to laugh.  "Even she goes a little starry-eyed when you turn on the charm full blast."

Harm's smile disappeared abruptly.  "C'mon, Mac!  That's ridiculous.  Harriet is one of my dearest friends.  She's head-over-heels in love with Bud, and certainly has _never_ made any kind of pass or overture or--" He ran out of words.  "I can't believe we're talking about this!"

Mac held up her hands in a placating gesture.  "Easy. I know that.  I'm not making accusations.  Harriet's one of my best friends, too, and a woman of outstanding character.  But that's my point.  If _she_ isn't immune, then no woman is."

Harm stared at her.  Mac could see him trying to work his way through what she'd said. 

"Where, exactly, are you going with this?" he asked after a bit.

Mac turned and started walking along the track.  Harm matched her.  "I guess what I'm trying to get at is that we're on this crazy ship full of women who are going to fall all over themselves to be with you.  The only problem is, to you it's not crazy-- it's _normal_.  That's how your life has always been, because all women react that way around you, to some degree or other.  Does it really surprise you then that, yes, I feel threatened when any woman gets within about five feet of you, no matter how innocent the situation?"

Mac had been walking with her head down, talking with her hands as she tried to put her observations into words.  It took her several steps to realize Harm was no longer beside her.  She stopped and turned.  He was standing a few feet behind her, staring in her direction.

Mac walked back to him.  "Harm?"  She hated it when he got quiet like that.  She never had any idea what was going on behind his eyes.  "I'm not trying to pick a fight, or blame you-- at all-- for anything."  She didn't quite have the courage to reach for him.  "I just wanted to explain why I get so… so prickly."  She looked down at her hand and the rings that encircled her finger.  "If I had my druthers, these rings would declare you 'off limits', and no woman would ever look twice at you again."

His gaze narrowed.  "These rings do declare me 'off limits', Mac.  You, too."  She could hear the carefully controlled anger that simmered beneath his words. "You're assuming facts not in evidence, counselor."

"Your evidence, maybe."  Mac was too caught up in her own personal pain to get angry in return.  "_My_ evidence is a mother who abandoned me, a father who got drunk and beat me, a failed marriage and a whole string of relationships that ended badly.  I've never known _anyone_ who held up their end of the bargain, Harm. No one! Not once."  She felt the burn of tears and bit her lip to hold them at bay.

 "And me?"  If anything, the edge on his voice had grown even sharper.

Mac closed her eyes, fighting to keep her voice even.  "I've seen you go literally to the ends of the earth to fulfill a promise."  She'd gone with him to Russia, after all.  "I know you.  I know what kind of man you are."  She opened her eyes and looked at him.  "And so I believe-- in you, in _us_… but that doesn't mean I'm not scared.  This is it for me, Harm.  I can't-- If this doesn't work, for whatever reason, I don't think I could ever open myself up enough to love someone again."

Harm stared at her in silence, his gaze distant.  The moment stretched, painful and frightening.  Mac wanted to scream, but didn't dare move.

Eventually, Harm came back from whatever internal place he'd been.  He closed the distance between them and raised a hand to brush away the strands of hair the wind blew across her cheek.  His gaze filled with compassion.  "You won't have to, Sarah.  That I promise you."

Relief washed through her, leaving her feeling weak.  Mac let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.  Harm opened his arms to her and she gratefully slipped into them.  For a moment, she did nothing but listen to the strong, steady beat of his heart.

"You going to be o.k., Mac?" he asked after a while.

Gathering herself, she stepped out of his grasp.  She nodded.  "Yeah.  Thanks for not blowing up at me."

A hint of a smile crossed his face.  "The warning helped."

And with that, Mac realized, the conversation was complete.  Not that they wouldn't need to revisit it from time to time-- Harm was such an incorrigible flirt they might end up camping there for a while, even-- but she'd been able to express how she felt and he had listened.  It was a remarkable experience.

Mac met her husband's gaze.  "Do you want to finish this last mile or just call it quits?" she asked.

"Oh, let's finish it."  The mischievous glint she loved came into his eyes.  "I wouldn't want to give you any excuse to wiggle out of the promise you made me this morning."

Mac grinned at him.  "Now why would I want to do that?"

#

 They met John and Delia poolside for lunch.  Harm found he enjoyed the Washington's company more than he might have imagined.  John was a tremendously well-educated man, and they had a good time discussing a wide range of topics.  He turned out to be a bit liberal for Harm's tastes, but in areas the Navy commander found easy to compromise, for the most part.  They had fun debating gun control, education, even campaign financing.

Eventually, the heat of the day got to them and they opted to join their wives in the pool.  Mac was wearing a jade-colored bikini that did truly amazing things in combination with her dark skin and the sparkling pool water.  _Slick her hair back and put her in a bikini…baby._  Harm grinned.  Steiner had certainly known what he was talking about.  Harm stripped off his shirt as he headed for the water.

"Is that from a bullet wound?"

The question stopped Harm in his tracks.  The slightly puckered, star-shaped scar was all that remained of that particular escapade.  He turned to look at John, who was watching him with a kind of fascinated curiosity.

"Yeah."  He shrugged.  It was a good thing Mac had gotten her own scars fixed.  "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  I don't really like to talk about it."  The story was that he'd been caught in a robbery and was hit by a stray bullet, should he ever have to explain.  Had Mac still had the scars from that poacher's gun, the explanation would have seemed that much more unlikely.

Harm turned and dove off the edge of the pool, cutting cleanly into the water.  He swam most of the length of the pool underwater, coming up beside Mac.  John joined them more sedately a few moments later, as did a couple of other people.  There turned out to be a surprising number of people on the ship.  Besides the nine couples and two dozen designated singles, there were the coordinators for each couple, all of the sound and camera crews, the panel of judges, the show's various host personalities, as well as the cooks, maids, stewards and the captain and his crew.

Someone brought a volleyball with them, and a game of men-against-women water polo was quickly struck up.  A rather viciously competitive one, Harm decided after being bodily dragged under by three women intent on stripping the ball away from him.  They got it, too, much to his chagrin.  Had he been single, he might have considered the loss well worth the fun of losing it, but his conversation with Mac that morning made it all too clear to him that there were some lines that needed to be drawn.  And respected. 

Harm resigned from the game.  He made his way to the edge of the pool and hauled himself onto it, turning to sit with his feet dangling in the water. The predatory swiftness with which two young, bikini-clad women came to sit next to him, one on either side, was downright astounding.  At least Mac was headed in his direction, working her way around the ongoing game.

"Ladies."  Ignoring them would only give the impression that he was intimidated.  Of course, in a sense he was.  Not of them, but rather of the storm clouds brewing in Mac's eyes.

"Worn out already?" one of the girls asked with a teasing grin.  Harm fished through his memory for a name-- ah, Nikki.  She was one of the designated singles-- he'd read her bio as part of their prep work for the case.  Computer science major at UCLA, into hiking and kayaking, vegetarian.  She looked like a California girl, with her tan, muscular limbs and saucy smile.

Harm summoned a grin.  "No, but it was getting a little too cutthroat out there for my tastes."  He nodded toward the pool.

"Really?"  She stirred the water with one foot, flashing her long legs.  "I thought you were more the type to enjoy a bit of healthy competition."

Harm chuckled, as much at himself as the girl's comment.  Like a shark smelling blood, she'd gone straight for his ego.  _Nothing like going for the big targets._

Mac saved him from having to reply.  

"Hi, Mac," he said cheerfully as his wife swam up.  

She grinned back at him, a thoroughly dangerous expression.  "Hi, yourself.  Are they playing nice?" Mac's gaze swept across the two co-eds, both of whom deflated under the baleful stare.  

Harm jerked his head in Nikki's direction.  "Ms. Upton here was just insulting my competitive spirit."  He slipped into the water with Mac.  He didn't mind running away from Nikki and her friend as long as it didn't _look_ like running.

Mac raised an eyebrow as she hooked her arms around his neck.  Harm immediately felt better."Ms. Upton has obviously never gone against you in court."

Harm decided not to rise to the bait, and kissed her instead.  He'd discovered that was much more fun than arguing with her. As often happened, the kiss got out of hand in a hurry, as he'd once put it.  He forgot all about the two young women who watched from not far away.

With twin "hmphs" of injured pride, the girls departed.  Mac laughed at their retreat.

            Harm wisely didn't watch them go.  _It's going to be a long six weeks_, he thought_._  


	16. [16]

Chapter 16

"Is that _Bob Eubanks_?"

The question snapped Mac out of her bored reverie.  She glanced at Harm, then followed his gaze to the man who stood talking with Tony Ariel and a small crowd of production people.  

She grinned at his startled expression.  "Of course it is.  They're doing a _Newlywed Game_ tie-in.  Weren't you paying attention when Steiner went over that in the contestant briefing?"

Harm cocked his eyebrows in the equivalent of a shrug.  "Must've missed that one.  I was probably too busy looking at your legs."

Mac smiled, inordinately pleased by the comment. It was the first real admission Harm had made of wanting her _before_ the wedding.  She tried not to let on too much, however.

"Well, we knew one of the couples' competitions would be a _Newlywed Game_ thing.  I guess it makes sense for it to be the first one," she said.

"They're going to run a special one-hour episode in the time slot after the _Temptation Cruise_ premier," Carmen added as she and Boothe walked up.  Carmen, Mac noted, was dressed to kill.  Her red dress left little to the imagination, and everything that showed, she flaunted with culpable intent.  Boothe matched her, his stylish black suit lending him an air of danger.  The two took the pair of seats next to Mac and Harm.  The third couple for their first round of the game was already seated on the far end of the row-- the Na's.  Nguyen and Stephanie Na were a quiet pair.  They kept mostly to themselves, and Mac knew little of them beyond the background information they'd gathered before the cruise.

"You know, there's something vaguely terrifying about the idea of being on _The Newlywed Game_, though I'm not quite sure why," Harm commented.

Boothe chuckled.  "Probably has to do with having to answer questions like 'Where is the most unusual place you ever made whoopie?', wouldn't you say?"  He didn't seem the least bit uncomfortable.

Harm laughed with him, but the look he flashed Mac was anything but humored.  He leaned close to her. 

"How _are_ we going to answer that?" he murmured into her hair.  

Mac considered the question.  _In our stateroom,_ was hardly a response calculated to divert suspicion.  After a moment, though, she smiled.

"How about 'Where's the most unusual place we _didn't_ make love?'," she suggested in the same low tone.  

Harm gave her a very surprised look, but then grinned.  "I guess that keeps with the spirit of the game, anyway."  He reached over to take her hand and brought it to his lips.  "This is going to be interesting, to say the least."

Mac had to laugh at that. 

The _Newlywed Game _was traditionally played with four couples, a format they were modifying to fit the needs of the show.  The nine couples would compete in groups of three, and the winners of the first round would compete against each other for the final prize-- a pair of his and hers SUVs, and the right to choose their spouses' companion for the next day's outing.  Mac and Harm were in the third group.

They spent the rest of the long, boring wait for their round to begin chatting with Boothe and Carmen.  It was more like fencing than conversation, Mac thought.  Perhaps Harm would have compared it to dogfighting, or more likely, to the dangerous game of target-lock chicken fighter pilots most often played.

But eventually, things got underway.  She and Harm endured a last once-over from makeup, and then they were in the harsh spotlights, with Bob Eubanks standing at his podium, smiling radiantly at the cameras.  

"Welcome to the _Newlywed Game_! As you know, the purpose of our game is to find out how much these three newlywed couples really know about each other by asking a set of questions to each spouse and asking them to pick the answer they think their husband or wife would answer.  In the first round, the women will exit the stage and go into our specially soundproofed studio while the men tell us what they think their wives will say.  Each question is worth five points.  In the second round, the men will go into the studio while the women tell what they think their husbands will say.  The questions in the second round are worth ten points.  At the end, there will be a twenty-five point bonus question.  Now, let's meet our contestants!" Bob gestured toward the waiting couples to the enthusiastic applause of the audience, which was comprised of everyone from the ship that didn't have to be doing something else.

Bob walked over to the Na's to exchange introductions.  "Now, we all know you've only been married for a couple of days, but how long did you date before this?"

"Four years," was the soft-spoken response.

"_Four years?_" Eubanks had a gift for making anything sound ridiculous, no matter how ordinary. "What was the slowdown?"

Nguyen hooked a thumb at his wife.  "Her mother."  The comment earned him an embarrassed, slightly venomous look.

Grinning, Bob moved on.  "You must be Boothe and Carmen."

They nodded.  Carmen looked like she was having trouble keeping her attention on the host.  Her eyes kept sliding toward the hulking forms of the television cameras.

Eubanks undoubtedly noticed, Mac thought.  He centered on Carmen.  "So tell me, Ms. Esperanza, why did you choose not to change your name?"

Carmen stiffened ever so slightly and licked her lips.  Mac recognized the defensive reaction for what it was.  "I guess because I don't feel like I need a man to define who I am," Carmen said.  "My family name is important to me."

Bob raised his eyebrows at that, though Boothe gave no perceptible reaction.

"What do you think about that, Boothe?" Eubanks asked.

He shrugged.  "I wouldn't be willing to change my name to Esperanza, so I don't see why anyone should have a problem with it."

With an equivocal shrug that drew laughter from the audience, Bob moved on.  Mac met his gaze briefly as he came to stand near them.

"And here we have Harmon and Sarah Rabb, correct?"

"Harm is fine," Harm told him.

"Call me Mac," Mac said at nearly the same time.

Bob paused, his comedic timing impeccable.  "_Mack_?"  He looked at Harm.  "You call your wife '_Mack_'?"

Harm shrugged, but his smile was full of mischief.  "Everybody calls her Mac."

"It's short for MacKenzie, my maiden name," Mac explained.  She glanced at Harm.  "That's going to get harder to explain, isn't it?"

Harm chuckled.  "Why bother?  If anybody gives you trouble about it, just give them that deadly stare of yours and say, 'You got a problem with that?'" He dropped his voice in a fair drill sergeant imitation.  Then he grinned, ruining the impression.  "And if that doesn't work, you can always break their arm."

Bob winked at Mac.  "I'm beginning to see the real reason… Tell me, Harm, can she beat you up?"

"Yes," Mac answered promptly, shooting her husband a sly grin.

Harm laughed and gave her a playfully wounded look in return.  "Well, two times out of three, maybe."

"Sounds like your house must be an interesting place."

Then it was time for Mac, Carmen and Stephanie to leave the stage and go into the soundproofed cubby to wait while the men answered the first round of questions.  The interior of the little room was barren except for three metal and plastic chairs.  Stephanie sat down while Mac leaned her shoulder against the wall.  Carmen paced, her stiletto heels occasionally snagging on the cheap carpet.

"So what's your story?" Carmen asked Mac after a few moments. 

Mac raised an eyebrow.

"You're some hot shot lawyer, can beat people up… you really gonna be happy just being _Mrs. Rabb_ for the rest of your life?"

_It's Lieutenant Colonel Rabb, and I sure hope so! _Mac couldn't say that, though.  She stared at Carmen in silence as her thoughts turned.  Eubanks had definitely touched a nerve in the other woman, however unwittingly. 

Mac chose her answer carefully.  "I've spent most of my life trying to live down the legacy my parents left me," she said.  "The only reason I kept the name MacKenzie was because no better one belonged to me.  That's not true any more."

Carmen snorted.  "Well, don't think that _man_ out there is gonna make you a better person, honey."

Mac tensed, torn between pity for the other woman and the instinctive desire to defend Harm.  "Actually, he does make me a better person," she answered, keeping her voice mild with an effort.  "I've never met anyone with more courage or integrity."  She stepped away from the wall.  "For all that the man has his faults-- and everyone does-- he's one of the best people I've ever known."

Carmen stared at her, her open disdain slowly fading to puzzlement.  But before she could say anything else, the door to the room opened.  A production person waved them out, his headset cord trailing behind him like a tail.

Mac followed Carmen out into the painfully bright lighting of the stage, trying not to wince.  She couldn't help the smile that lit her face on seeing Harm, not with the thoughts that were floating around in her head.  He really was the very best thing that had ever happened to her.  

Harm grinned back at her, though a bit sheepishly.  Mac settled in her chair and cocked her head at him.  "They been putting you on the spot?"

His smile deepened.  "I told you this was going to be interesting."

"That sounds bad."

"We'll see."

"All right, ladies, here's the first question we asked your husbands: Of the two of you, who do you say is the better catch?"  Bob Eubanks swept his gaze across them, gauging reactions no doubt, before walking over to the Na's.  "Now remember, Stephanie, your husband has tried to give the answer he thought _you_ would say."

Mac tried to wait patiently while Bob went through the other two couples.  Stephanie said herself, while Nguyen had said him, which resulted in a pair of dark looks.  Not too surprisingly, Carmen also answered herself, which Boothe matched.  But that made sense, Mac thought.  Carmen would say she was the better catch, and Boothe was shrewd enough to go for the answer she would say rather than what he thought was true.  That much was obvious from his expression.

So, how had Harm answered?  She debated with herself as Bob walked over to her.

"And what do you say, Mac?"

Mac took a deep breath, wondering if she understood how her husband worked at all.  Well, she supposed she would find out.

"Knowing the size of his ego, I guess I'm going to have to go with 'him'."  She gave Harm a teasing smile.  She-- not to mention the Admiral-- had been riding him about the size of his aviator's ego for years.

She knew immediately from the audience's reaction that she'd guessed wrong.  Harm had picked her.  But was that because he believed it, or because he thought she would think so?  Her stomach knotted.

Harm grinned at her, though not entirely happily.  "Ow.  Are you trying to tell me I'm arrogant?"

Mac decided the truth was the only thing that could save her.  "Well, you are… though usually with good reason."  She let a hint of suggestiveness creep into her voice.

Even Bob Eubanks raised his eyebrows at that.  Harm was chuckling.  "I'm not going to let you forget you said that."

Mac rolled her eyes, but figured it was a small price to pay.  

Eubanks went on with the show.  He stayed beside Mac and Harm as he pulled out the second question.  "Mac, which of the following songs best describes your first date with Harm?  A) Sea of Love, B) Let's Get Physical, or C) Crash."

Mac burst out laughing. What could their first "date" have been, but that day Harm had taken her flying in Sarah?

"Oh, 'Crash', definitely," she said through her laughter.

Bob grinned at her.  "That bad, huh?"

"No, literally," Mac explained.  He took me flying in his plane and there were some mechanical difficulties and--"

"It wasn't a crash.  It was an emergency landing," Harm injected indignantly.

Mac turned to him.  "True, but still, you have to admit things kind of went downhill from there."

Harm's snort spoke volumes and drew laughter from the crowd.

Bob looked at Harm.  "So how long was it before she agreed to go out with you again?"

"Years."

Eubanks laughed at that.  "All right.  Well, why don't you show her what you said."

Harm flipped the large blue card, which had 'Crash' written on it in his distinctive handwriting.  Mac smiled at that, but Harm's expression had turned serious.

"That was one of the worst days of my life," he told her softly as Bob moved off to talk to Boothe and Carmen.

Mac sobered at the shadows that turned his normally blue eyes a turbulent gray. It had been a pretty bad day for her, too, even though they laughed about it in retrospect.  She wondered if Harm still felt guilty for leaving her.  She sighed.  Probably.  But there was nothing she could say about it right now.

She turned to watch the other couples take their turns.  Boothe and Carmen matched again with "Let's Get Physical", which didn't surprise Mac in the least.  Nguyen and Stephanie once again did not match.  _How did they manage to stay together for four years?_ she wondered.

The third question was enough to make Mac clamp one hand over her mouth and the _Oh no!_ that threatened to leap off her tongue.

Eubanks stood by Carmen.  "Here's the question we asked your husband: How would _she_ describe you? A) All action, no talk, B) All talk, no action, or C) Entertaining at both.  What do you say, Carmen?"

Mac stared at Harm.  She was reassured to see the laughter that sparkled in his eyes, as if he knew just how dangerous a question it was and was honest enough not to be offended by her assessment.

Once again, Carmen guessed correctly.  _Well,_ Mac thought, _'All action, no talk' is probably a good description of Boothe._  He certainly didn't strike her as the sensitive type.  Nguyen and Stephanie finally got one as well, with 'all talk, no action', though Nguyen sounded bitter as he said it.

When it was her turn, Mac decided to hedge her bets.  In the past, their personal relationship had been '_no_ talk, no action', but now she had plenty of both.  And in other respects, Harm had always done more than enough of both the talking and the action.  Mac had heard a rumor that some CO's looked for an opportunity to get Harm assigned to them, however briefly, just to give them an excuse to read his service record.  It was supposed to be one of the most… colorful… in the Navy.

Mac chuckled at her thoughts.  "I'm going to have to go with 'Entertaining at both'," she told Bob.

To her surprise, Harm had chosen the same thing.

He flashed her a cheeky grin.  "Well I am, aren't I?" he asked when she voiced her surprise.

"I'm beginning to see what you meant about the size of his ego," Bob commented in an aside, to which Mac laughed.  Harm looked on, unfazed.  He knew he was arrogant, Mac realized, and considered it an asset. For him, she had to concede, it generally was.  Fighter pilots lived in a world where being good wasn't enough even to get them into the field.  Being great meant they could handle the job, and only the firm belief that they were absolutely _the best_ gave them the nerve to hazard death every single time they catapulted off the carrier deck.  Loss of confidence killed a lot more fighter pilots than enemy missiles did.  

Oddly enough, Mac thought, the same thing held for lawyers though on a vastly different scale.

The game continued, this time with the men leaving the stage.  To Mac's relief, the questions got better, not worse.  For herself and Harm, anyway.  The Na's nearly came to blows over the question of what he would change about her if he could.  Of course, he'd had the unbelievable idiocy to tell the world he thought his wife's breasts were too small.  

For Mac, that question was easy.  "My diet," she'd told Bob Eubanks without hesitation. Harm agreed.

"You wouldn't believe the amount of junk she eats," he added with a sly smile in Mac's direction.

It was an old argument and a fun one, so Mac jumped in.  "I do _not_ eat junk."

"Three Beltway burgers, fries and a coke for lunch?  That's a hundred grams of fat in one meal."  He cocked an eyebrow in her direction.  "I'm not even going to comment on cholesterol."

For once, Mac could do what she'd always wanted to when he teased her about her food.  She struck a sultry pose.  "Do I _look_ fat?"  The audience, invisible beyond the glare of the lights, roared.

Harm made a show of looking her over, his expression a cross between a serious evaluation and an outright leer.  "_You_," he finally concluded, "are gorgeous.  But your metabolism must run at an insane rate considering what you eat.  It won't protect you from heart disease or clogged arteries."  Harm leaned close, taking her hand.  His smile was that certain one he reserved just for her.  "Having finally found you, Mac, I'd really like to keep you for a while." 

Mac felt her cheeks growing warm beneath the power of his smile.  "Don't worry," she managed to say.  "You won't be getting rid of me any time soon."

For a moment, the rest of the world went away.  Mac lost track of everything but her husband's intense expression and the answering fire it kindled in her own body.

The crowd's laughter brought her back, as Bob fanned himself with his cards and walked away.

The rest of the game passed in a blur.  Unfortunately, they never managed to quite catch up with Boothe and Carmen, and ended up losing the round to them by a mere five points.  Mac found she didn't care as much as she expected to.  Not that she liked the idea of Tony Ariel and his staff picking a date for Harm, but since they'd talked she felt much more confident.  At least this way they were free to enjoy their evening instead of spending it playing the _Newlywed Game_ again.

They found a little bistro, tucked between two larger restaurants on the main concourse, and spent the evening talking over pasta and espresso.  All in all, Mac thought as they made their way to their room, it had turned out to be a pretty good day despite the opportunities there'd been for disaster.

_And tomorrow?_ she wondered for a brief, pessimistic moment.

"What about tomorrow?" Harm asked as he unlocked the door to their stateroom.  He gave her a curious, slightly concerned look.

Mac shook her head, surprised that she'd spoken her thought aloud.  "Nothing.  I was just…"

"…thinking of all the things that could go wrong?"

Caught, Mac sighed.  "Yeah."

Harm grinned as he held the door open for her.  "Tomorrow won't get here for a while yet.  Do you think we can find something better to do with our time than worry about it?"

Mac pushed her dark thoughts away with determination.  Straightening her shoulders, she sauntered past Harm, throwing him a coquettish look over her shoulder.  "Was that an invitation?"

His smile deepened.  "More of a challenge, really."

She turned, waiting for him to cross the distance to her.  "Well, you know how much I love a challenge."

Harm hit the light switch as he passed it, plunging the room into darkness.  She heard him laugh deep in his throat as his arms closed around her.  "That's my Marine," he murmured in the moment before his mouth fastened on hers.


	17. [17]

Chapter 17

In the morning, the contestants were roused early.  They gathered on the wharf where the launches from the _Radiant Heart_ deposited them, along with their coordinators, the singles, and camera crews.  Tony Ariel was there as well.  He read off the assignments through a bullhorn and gave each pair instructions on how to proceed to the location for their day trip.

Harm wasn't too terribly surprised to find himself with Nikki Upton.  Her choice of activities was a twelve-mile hike through the mountains that filled the center of the little caribbean island.  Harm had to chuckle at that.  If she thought wearing him out would lower his defenses to her various charms, she was mistaken.  At his age, all it was likely to do was to wear him out.

One of three helicopters was waiting to take them to the trailhead.  The show's staff had provided light packs containing some basic first aid supplies, climbing gear, food and water.  The two cameramen assigned to them had radios for emergencies.  Harm simply laughed at Selena's repeated attempts to get him to take off the heavy-weave cotton shirt he was wearing.  There was no way he was going to cart an unfamiliar pack-- even a light one-- on bare shoulders.  He'd known better than that since his days in Laos.

Mac stood a short ways away, utterly breathtaking in a flowered bikini and matching sarong.  To be honest, Harm wasn't entirely thrilled with her wardrobe choice, but her instructions had been to wear something she could swim in and she didn't have any one-piece suits.  They'd made all their costuming choices several weeks before their relationship had changed so dramatically, and he wondered what, if anything, Mac's choice of swimwear meant.  After all, they had argued about her wearing-- or _not_ wearing, more specifically-- a bikini once upon a time. 

Harm pushed the thoughts aside.  It simply didn't matter any more.  

Mac turned as if sensing his attention.  She smiled, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear.  Harm's heart skipped a beat. No, it didn't matter any more.  Not at all.

Mac was going to be leaving soon, in one of several bright yellow Honda Passports bearing the _Temptation Cruise II_ logo.  The young man escorting her reminded Harm of the Greek statues of Adonis: curly black hair, olive skin, and a physique to make an Olympic swimmer jealous.  Not to mention a Navy Commander or two.  What were they supposed to be doing today?  Beach combing?  He wondered how Mac would take to such a frivolous activity.  It didn't strike him as the kind of thing she'd have the patience for, but then again, he'd never been on vacation with her.  He really didn't know how she would enjoy spending her days in the sun.

One of the cameramen, who also doubled as the driver for Mac and her date, began indicating that it was time for them to go.  Mac nodded acknowledgement, then turned to Harm.  The fearful longing in her eyes took his breath away.  He hated the idea of being separated from her, even for a day, and hated even more the circumstances that would be working to tear them apart.

Harm crossed the distance between them in two strides and swept her up into a passionate embrace.  He wanted to drink her in-- fix the taste and scent and feel of her more firmly in his memory to make sure he could take that much of her with him when they parted.  

Mac sighed a little as they separated, but her smile was the one Harm lived for.  Everything he had accomplished in his life-- as a lawyer, an officer, even a fighter pilot-- paled beside the knowledge that he had, and did, make this woman happy.  Marriage had always seemed like such an awesome and frightening responsibility.  Which it was, he had to admit, but it also fulfilled some basic, masculine need inside him-- something he hadn't even suspected he was missing. 

"Have fun, Mac," he said.  "I love you."

Her smile deepened.  "I love you, too.  I don't think I'll ever get enough of hearing that."

The comment sparked a thought, which Harm filed away for another time.  Mac liked romantic gestures, and this one didn't require anything but some time alone and a pad of post-it notes, which he was sure he could come up with.

Then it was time for Mac to go.  Harm walked her to her vehicle and held the rear door for her while she got in.  It gave him the opportunity to meet Mr. Greek Statue's eyes over the hood of the car and impress on him the amount of pain he would be inflicting on himself if he behaved even slightly improperly toward Mac.  

Being who and what he was, Harm had a pretty intimidating stare when he chose to use it.  The young man swallowed hard before ducking to enter the vehicle.  Satisfied, Harm leaned down to smile at Mac once more, then stepped back as the yellow Passport pulled away.

That done, Harm went in search of Nikki Upton.  There was no sense in delaying any longer.  The sooner he left, the sooner he could return… hopefully to find Mac waiting for him.

#

"Hey, Geordi, this one needs some cleaning up."  

Geordi-- more properly George Laughton-- turned to look at his fellow tech.  George was young, black and somewhat baby-faced, but the nickname came from his uncanny ability with electronics rather than his resemblance to the Star Trek character.  He walked over to his compatriot and took the proffered headphones, holding one side to his ear.  He nodded to the other man.

_Tomorrow won't get here for a while yet.  Do you think we can find something better to do with our time than worry about it?_  A man's voice.  Rabb, if he had to guess.  The words were clear.

"Which cabin is this?" he asked.

"Six."  Yes, that was the Rabbs.

"The cameras are still on?" It was more of a rhetorical question than not.  The audio units integrated with the cabin cameras were far better than the secondary systems that kicked in when the lights went out.  Those recordings weren't airable because they weren't supposed to exist, but the producers thought they could provide important information.  Geordi didn't care much one way or the other.  Anyone who volunteered to go on the show, he figured, deserved whatever they got.

_Was that an invitation?_ Mrs. Rabb's response.  Arch, confident, daring.  And still crystal clear.

"What's the problem?" Geordi asked.

"Last line," was the response.

Geordi listened.

_More of a challenge, really_, Rabb was saying.  How did he manage to sound so innocent saying that?

_Well, you know how much I love a challenge._  Not that she was fooled.  These two were awfully funny to listen to.  

Geordi heard footsteps, then a soft click, followed by the hiss of the cheap analog recording system as it took over.  His attention sharpened.  

_--at's my --arine--_  It was barely a whisper, followed by muffled, intermittent sounds that made him think there probably wouldn't be any more meaningful conversation for a while.

He reached for the controls, spun the tape back and listened again.  That's my… tangerine?  Marine? A dream?  Nothing jumped out at him as a likely endearment.

"You think it's important?" Geordi asked, letting his skepticism show.  They had a truly terrifying amount of tape to sort through each day.  

The other man shrugged.  "Not really, but Steiner said to make sure he got everything with these two in it, so he might think it was."

Geordi frowned, his thoughts suddenly turning in new directions.  "Why these two?"  He hadn't heard those instructions, but he wasn't the senior tech.  Still, given his own private instructions from Steiner, the possible connections were intriguing.  

"It's not just them.  He wants the Andersons and Crossby/Esperanza, too."

Geordi shrugged.  "Oh.  O.k.  Well, I can try to get some more out of it.  Mark it for me and leave it on my desk when you leave and I'll try to get to it after lunch."

The other tech gave him a sympathetic grin.  "I'd tell you I'll be thinking of you while I'm sipping margaritas on the beach, but I'd be lying."

Geordi chuckled.  "That's all right.  I can't stay in Ariel's doghouse forever."  A few unappreciated comments had gotten Geordi condemned to work the AV room while everyone else enjoyed their shore time.  However, since he'd done it intentionally, he could hardly complain.

The other tech finished up a few things, then left.  Geordi waited.  After a while he checked the time. The dual banks of surveillance monitors showed little activity.  Almost everyone had gone ashore. No one was likely to interrupt him now.

Gathering his toolkit, he walked into one of several equipment rooms that adjoined the AV room.  His assignment from Steiner was tedious, if technically interesting.  Tracing every single recording circuit was likely to take him the entire cruise, and he wondered what the show's producer thought he might find.

#

Mac was bored.  B-O-R-E-D.  Bored.  Looking for seashells was all well and good for a little while, but after several hours she needed a new diversion.  Unfortunately, Alex Tantanopolous, her lovely but shallow companion, was convinced she should be having the time of her life.  Oh well.  She was a Marine.  She'd endured far worse.

Lunchtime arrived to her intense relief.  Food was always a welcome diversion and she was starved.  Like Harm said, her metabolism ran at an insane rate.  She'd had to forego her usual midmorning snack, which left her feeling truly famished.  She was about to mention her hunger to Alex when she spotted a picnic blanket and attending umbrella laid out on the sand.  She turned in that direction, assuming the spread couldn't have been meant for anyone else.

"Oooh, I'm starving.  Let's eat!"  

Alex followed her, eventually breaking into a jog to beat her to the site.  He dropped to one knee beside a large picnic basket and began pulling out various dishes.  Mac helped, figuring they would get to eat that much sooner.  The smells wafting out of the basket made her stomach growl.

Alex looked over at her in surprise.  

"Yes, that was me," she told him with a touch of asperity.  "I told you I was starving."

Alex smiled and handed her a plate.  "Here, then. Eat."

Mac started lifting lids.  "It smells wonderful."  She guessed the dishes were all Greek, based on her limited knowledge of Mediterranean cuisine.  But whatever they were, they were good.  She demolished her first plate, then slowed down to enjoy seconds.

Alex watched her in a mixture of amusement and awe.  He didn't take much for himself, she noted.  Lots of rice and vegetables, but not much of the meat.  And no sauce at all.  

"You eat like my husband," Mac said, unable to hide her grin as the words rolled off her tongue.  _My husband… that sounds so good._  

Alex gave her an odd look.  Well, if he thought she wasn't going to mention Harm, that was too bad.  

"How so?" he asked after a moment.

Mac shrugged.  "Disgustingly healthy."

Looking a bit wounded, Alex set his plate down.  "A good diet is important.  I believe there are three basic components to a person-- mind, body and soul-- and each one has to be properly cared for…" He went on for a while, espousing what Mac quickly deduced was his life philosophy and which, apparently, covered absolutely every possible moral, ethical and personal issue.  She wondered if he'd gotten it from a book, or more likely, a TV special.

_That's not very nice_, she chided herself as she tried to maintain a polite expression.  Luckily she still had some food left to occupy part of her attention.  Not to mention dessert, if there was one.  At least Harm didn't rely on some wacky philosophy to justify his health nut tendencies.  

Alex wound down just as Mac started her search for dessert.  She found something reminiscent of a fruit tart, and equally tasty.  

Reclining on one elbow, Alex brought out a small book from a side pocket of the basket and began to read.

Mac almost choked on her pastry.  _Poetry?  He's going to read me poetry?!_  She managed to contain her reaction with an effort of will.  In general, she had little use for poetry.  Not that one… or two-- short-- situationally appropriate poems… from Harm… might not be appreciated… 

Sighing in feigned contentment, Mac found a comfortable spot in the sun and lay back.  She could at least work on her tan, maybe even daydream a bit so long as Alex stayed put where he was, safely on the other side of the picnic basket.

Lying there, she wondered if Harm was having as much fun as she was.

#

Nikki Upton was an ambitious woman.  So far she was the only one who'd managed to garner even the slightest notice from Harmon Rabb, a feat that had won her instant respect-- and jealousy-- from the rest of the female staff.  Nikki reveled in it.  Harm was, without doubt, the show's top prize, one she intended to claim.  Whoever did _that_ would be remembered after the show ended.  Her name would be instantly recognized, and doors would magically open.  Nikki didn't really want to spend the rest of her life working with computers.  It would pay the bills until something better came along, and hopefully that something better was starting now.

She knew how to win Harmon Rabb's heart.  

Not completely, of course.  But enough to make him slip… and that was all she needed.

They were climbing a narrow trail along the edge of a precipice.  Through a thin layer of jungle, they caught glimpses of the spectacular view of the rugged, foliage-covered mountains on the far side of a valley that lay hundreds of feet below them.  At the moment, Harm was leaning against a convenient tree trunk, sipping from his water bottle.  To Nikki's surprise, he'd had little trouble keeping up with her, even though she was an experienced hiker.  Well, she knew he was in good shape. But, the spot she'd picked was only a little ways ahead.  Hopefully, he was amenable to a break. 

She turned to Harm.  "Do you mind if I explore up the trail a little ways?  There's supposed to be clearing with an unobstructed view.  It sounded like the perfect place to stop for lunch."

Harm shrugged.  "Suit yourself."  He moved a short ways away and settled on the lip of a moss-covered rock, digging out a small towel to soak some of the sweat from his face and hair.

Pleased, Nikki headed up the trail.  The forest steamed around her as the sun baked off the early morning's torrential downpour.  She was sheened in sweat, her bound-up hair falling in damp, curly wisps around her face.  The entire morning, she'd done nothing particular to invite Harm's attention save a little light flirting, which he'd reflected back at her without ever stepping up the intensity.  Even so, he'd been very pleasant company.  She could certainly see what his wife saw in him.  Well, Mac would get him back, Nikki didn't doubt.  She was that kind of woman.

A few hundred yards along, the trail widened into a small clearing that jutted out over the edge of the cliff, just as the scouting team had promised.  The view was astounding.

"Wow, get a load of that," Nikki told her cameraman with a gesture toward the panorama.  He obediently swung the camera in the proper direction, then returned his focus to her.  Nikki addressed the camera, and beyond it, the television audience.

"There are supposed to be some tree roots hanging out of the cliff just below the edge over there, and I'm going to go take a look.  See, I think what Harmon Rabb really wants is to be a hero, so I'm going to give him the chance to save me."  She smiled for the camera, then turned and walked close to the cliff edge to look over.  Dark gray stone fell away in a tremendous sheer cliff dotted with vines and flowering shrubs.  A few feet below the edge, a wide tangle of roots snaked their way across the stone, as promised.  They looked pretty sturdy.

Cautiously, Nikki inched closer to the lip.  The dark loam squished beneath her hiking boots, still wet from the rain.  She crouched, trying to figure out how best to lower herself.  She didn't have to go very far, just enough to make it look like she was really in danger.

With a sickening lurch and a hiss like sand pouring out of a giant glass, the ground suddenly gave way beneath her feet.  Nikki shrieked in terror as she began to slide over the edge, grabbing desperately for anything that might stop her fall.


	18. [18]

Chapter 18 

A woman's scream echoed through the thick jungle growth from somewhere up the trail.  Harm bolted to his feet, racing toward the sound before he could consciously command his body to move.  Adrenaline poured through his system, sharpening sight and sound, and turning time into a liquid thing.  Memory drew him back to his days in Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam, and as he ran he instinctively swept the trail ahead for signs of land mines or trip wires.  Not that he really expected to find anything, but the training, the experience, ran deep.  Inside he was very frightened of what he might see when he caught up to Nikki Upton.

Harm burst into the clearing Nikki must have been looking for and spotted the second cameraman.  He was standing near the lip of what had to be a huge cliff, camera forgotten in his hand as he tried to peer over.  Near where he stood, a portion of the edge looked to have collapsed, leaving a sloping divot in its surface.

"Help me!" Nikki screamed again, the sound echoing up from the front of the cliff.  Harm felt a wash of intense relief, followed by dismay.  She was still alive… and in a great deal of trouble.

"Get back!" Harm snapped at the cameraman.  "Do you want to fall?"  

The man turned to stare at him, then obediently backed away.  He watched the cliff edge fearfully.  "She just… disappeared," he told Harm.  "One minute she was looking over the edge, the next she was just… gone."

Ignoring him, Harm dropped his pack about ten feet from the edge and dropped to his stomach, crawling forward on elbows and knees.  He approached the lip cautiously, testing each position before trusting his weight to it.  He knew landslides from Southeast Asia as well.

He stuck his head over the edge and looked down.  Nikki was maybe ninety feet below him, her form obscured by a fleshy-leafed bush whose branches she clung to.  Harm could see little of her but bare legs and a pair of hiking boots dangling beneath the green mass.  The cliff face turned in just below the bush, leaving her suspended over empty space.  

"Nikki!" he called.

"Harm?"  There was a clear note of hysteria in her voice.  "Is that you?  Harm, help me! I'm going to fall!"

"It's me," he answered, trying to keep his voice calm, reassuring.  "You're going to be fine.  Just hold on."  

"No!  Harm, help me!  It's pulling out by the roots!"

Harm studied the flowered bush, which did seem to be bent at an odd angle.  He turned quickly to look back at the cameramen.  The one who'd gone with Nikki was standing a short ways back, watching everything through his camera lens.  The other had his emergency radio to his mouth and was speaking urgently into it.

"How long for them to send help?" he asked the man with the radio.

"One of our helicopters will be here in about two minutes," the man answered, "but they don't have rescue equipment.  Mr. Ariel says a Coast Guard helicopter is coming with a search and rescue team."

"ETA?"

The cameraman looked blankly at him.

"_How long_?"

"Fifteen minutes, maybe more."

Harm shook his head.  "She doesn't have fifteen minutes.  That bush isn't going to hold much longer."  He poked his head back out over the cliff edge.  "Hang on, Nikki! I'm coming down to get you."

"Please hurry!"

Harm scrambled back from the precipice and regained his feet.  He hurried to his pack, knelt, and began digging out the climbing equipment he'd been given.  He already knew the inventory and had made a cursory check before they left, but now he checked each item with quick, focused intensity.  He had a rappelling harness and about a hundred fifty feet of rope, and, thankfully, a pair of climbing gloves.  

Harm stood and began unwinding the rope.  "Do either of you have any climbing experience?" he demanded of the two cameramen.  

The one with the radio nodded.  "A little."

"Good, then get over here."  The man did.  Harm handed him the rope.  "What's your name?"

"Donald-- Don," the man replied.  

"All right, Don.  Hopefully, you understand what I'm doing here."  He glanced at the tree line on the far side of the small clearing.  "Take the rope and loop it around that tree."  He pointed to the appropriate one.  It had a thick trunk and shaggy bark that might provide some added friction.  "You're going to have to lower me.  There's not nearly enough rope here to rappel.  It's going to be close as is."  The tree he'd indicated stood a good twenty, twenty-five, feet from the lip.  

Don nodded and went.  Harm watched him for a moment to make sure he really did have some clue what he was supposed to do, then strapped on the climbing harness.  He looked up when his ears reported the blade noise of the _Temptation Cruise_ helicopter.  It was too high pitched to be the Coast Guard chopper.

The bright yellow helicopter crested the mountains on the far side of the valley then dipped downward for a better look.  Somewhat to Harm's surprise, the pilot kept a goodly distance between his bird and the cliff.  He was grateful.  Had the helicopter come too close, the vibrations could have further jeopardized Nikki's life, and his own.  The helicopter flew back and forth, seeming to pace midair as the passengers watched what was happening.

Harm made himself ignore everything but his climbing gear.  He attached the rope to his harness and checked the tension.  Don stood ready with the other end of the rope looped around the tree.  He had threaded it behind his back to allow him to use his body weight to counter Harm's.  Nodding to Don, Harm walked to the edge of the cliff, turned, and slowly leaned back over empty space.  The rope and harness took his weight. Harm began to walk down the cliff.

He drew even with the bush Nikki clung to just about the time his line lurched to a stop.  He could see her through the branches, scraped and bloodied and staring up at him with desperate hope in her eyes.  She had wrapped one elbow around the base of the bush, a stalk perhaps two inches in diameter.  Harm could see where the bush had begun to tear away from the cliff, exposing long, skinny roots that snaked back into the stone.

"Don't move," Harm told her.  She nodded and tightened her grip on the bush.

He looked up.  "Don, I need about three more feet!" he called toward the invisible men above.  He couldn't quite reach her from there.

After a moment, the second cameraman, whose name Harm didn't know, appeared at the edge.  He appeared to still be filming.  "He says there's no more!  He's at the tree!" he called down.

Harm muttered a string of curses.  Three feet short.  _Now what?_  Nikki had already dropped her backpack, so there was no real way to lighten the load the overburdened bush was carrying.

The idea that leapt into Harm's mind made him shake his head at himself.  _No, too dangerous._  But even as he thought it, the bush gave way another inch.  Nikki let out a little mewl of terror.  

Harm tightened his grip on the rope.  _I must be out of my mind._  

Very carefully, Harm inverted himself until he was dangling headfirst with his back to the uneven stone.  The climbing harness really wasn't intended to be used that way.  It wasn't secure.  Harm felt the nylon straps bite into his hip bones.  That contact was now the only thing that kept him from falling five hundred feet or more.  Luckily, Harm wasn't intimidated by heights.  He hooked the rope with one ankle like a circus performer to give him better stability and extended his arms under the bush toward Nikki.

"You ready to get out of here?" he asked casually, as if he were talking about leaving a restaurant.  The more confident she was, the higher her chances of survival.

Nikki nodded, her face lighting with a tiny smile.  

"All right, then.  Take your right hand and reach over and grab my wrist.  Not my hand, my wrist.  Do you understand?"

She nodded again, swallowing convulsively.  "Just don't drop me, o.k.?"  Very slowly, she let go with her right hand and reached for him.  Harm had to smile.  She was doing her best to be game, and was keeping her head.

Her fingers closed on his wrist.  Harm wrapped his hand around hers in return, keenly aware of how small her arm seemed in his grip. Nikki's other arms remained locked around the bush's trunk and still bore the majority of her weight.  Her legs dangled over empty space, making it impossible for her to brace herself.

Harm kept his gaze locked with Nikki's.  "O.k.  Now for the hard part.  You have to let go of the bush."  

Nikki blanched.

Harm stared into her eyes, trying to impart courage to her from that contact.  "Gravity will swing you this direction, but you aren't going to fall.  I've got you.  I'm not going to let go, so you aren't going to fall."  _That is, as long as me and this harness stay properly connected._  He smiled encouragingly, not letting his thoughts show.

"Ready?"

Nikki's grip on the bush tightened.  She took a deep breath, her eyes terrified.  "I can't."

"Yes, you can.  Look at me, Nikki."  Obediently, her eyes fastened on him.  "Do you trust me?"

Slowly, she nodded.

"I _will not_ let you fall.  Now let go of the bush and reach for me."  He held out his other hand.

With a convulsive motion, Nikki released her hold on the shrub.  Just for a moment it seemed like her hand would cross the distance to his, but then gravity took hold.  She swung free, hanging solely from the one arm Harm held.  She screamed in terror, her free hand instinctively flinging outward at the sensation of falling.

His own heart pounding in fear as the harness shifted against his hips, Harm reached for her.  "Grab my hand!"

Nikki reached up blindly and after a few very scary moments, Harm managed to capture her wrist.  The change in momentum swung them both into the stone cliff.  Harm grunted in pain as sharp protrusions jabbed him in the back.

As he'd intended, Nikki hung facing toward the cliff.  He pulled her upward by brute strength, his shoulders screaming.  "Get your toes into the rock."  The instruction came out as a gasp.  The point where the stone wall dipped inward was now approximately even with her knees. 

Nikki scrambled, but managed to get her feet up and planted.  As she began to shift her weight to her legs, she was able to raise herself, putting her head level with Harm's.  The precarious position meant he was still straining to keep her from falling backward, but it was a lot better than it had been.

 "Good.  Now find a hand hold," he told her.

Following his instructions, Nikki got her hands onto the rocks and was soon clinging to the sheer stone face.  Harm let go of her completely.  He shifted himself a couple of feet away and gratefully turned right side up.  Spots danced in front of his eyes for a moment, something he was familiar with from pulling g's.  He ignored it.

Now in a more secure position but still a bit higher than Nikki, Harm could reach down with one hand to grab the back waistband of her khaki shorts, steadying her as she inched her way upward.  Harm could see her limbs trembling with each movement and guessed she wouldn't be able to do much more.  Silent tears trailed down her cheeks, though the only sound she made was the harsh gasping of her breath.

When she'd climbed to a point that put her even with him, Harm simply moved over behind her, straddling her.  He found solid footholds, then wrapped one arm around her ribcage, supporting her and bracing them both against the stone face.  Nikki's hands closed spasmodically around his arm.  A tiny sob escaped her as she leaned into him.

Harm took a deep breath, allowing himself to feel relief.

"We made it," he told her with an encouraging smile.  "It's going to be all right.  We can wait here for the Coast Guard search and rescue team."  He made himself say the name out rather than calling it SAR, as he normally would.  He yelled up to Don, telling him to tie off the line.  He had to be getting very tired.

Tucked against his chest, Nikki was silent.  They waited.  Ten minutes later, the _whump whump_ of the Coast Guard's HH-60 recovery helicopter filled the air around them.  Harm turned his head to look, spotting the distinctive orange and white paint scheme easily as the helicopter approached.  The _Temptation Cruise_ helicopter backed off a little further, probably at the Coast Guard pilot's instruction.

Harm and Nikki watched as the HH-60 came to a hover above them.  The door opened and a crewman slowly descended on a line.  Harm could see the second harness attached just below the crewman.  The pilot's aim was dead on.  The crewman came straight to them.  

"You folks o.k.?" he asked when he reached them.  Beneath the white helmet and tinted visor, his face was nearly invisible.

Harm nodded.  "We're fine now."

The crewman braced himself against the stone as he and Harm worked to fasten the second harness around Nikki.

"Well done, sir," the crewman told Harm as he tested the connections.  

"Thanks." Harm bit his lip.  It felt odd to be sirred as a civilian rather than as an officer.  He wondered how much he'd done to compromise his mission by his actions that day.  Not that he would have done anything differently, but…

"Are you ready?" the crewman asked Nikki.  

She nodded, but as the winch inside the helicopter began to reel them up, she grabbed for Harm, nearly strangling him in the process of trying to get her arms around his neck.  Her eyes were wide, terrified.

"Don't let go of me!  I don't want to fall."  She buried her face against his neck.

The crewman halted the winch with a quick hand signal to his partner in the helicopter while Harm struggled to loosen Nikki's death grip.

"Hey."  He managed to gain enough space to look into her pale, drawn face.  She'd kept her head while her life depended on it, but now she was losing the battle with hysteria.  "You're safe, o.k.?  The crewman is going to take you up to that helicopter up there, and then he'll come back for me."  He pointed upward as he spoke.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

At that, she let go.  Harm watched as she was taken up into the helicopter.  When the crewman returned, he quickly attached the rescue line to his harness and released the other one.  Drifting free of the cliff, Harm balanced his weight in preparation for the short ride up to the chopper.  It wasn't quite like flying to hang suspended like that, but it was still fun.

"You've done this before," the crewman said as the winch hauled them upward.  His tone made it a question.

Harm considered his reply.  He could say any number of things, make all kinds of excuses, but it was hard to be so conservative after the events of the past half-hour.  

Instead, he winked at the crewman and said nothing.

#

Mac was nearly frantic by the time the Coast Guard helicopter appeared over the trees.  All she knew was that someone from Harm's party had gone over a cliff and there'd been a rescue attempt.  All of the other contestants' groups had been recalled to the landing to wait for news. Since then, Mac's imagination had conjured every possible scenario in which Harm was either badly hurt or killed, though she knew he was probably the least likely person to fall off a cliff.  He didn't take stupid risks.  But all she could think of was how much it would hurt to lose him now that she'd finally found him.

The HH-60 settled on the concrete landing pad that had been constructed for the show, its rotors throwing up a choking cloud of sand and dust.  Covering her mouth with her hand, Mac struggled forward.  She waited impatiently at the edge of the pad as the rotors wound down.

The main door opened in the side of the aircraft and a crewman in an orange jumpsuit climbed out.  He turned to help a rather battered-looking Nikki Upton out of the helicopter.  Harm followed on his own, and Mac's heart leapt into her throat.  Some small part of her brain catalogued his condition, noting the bits of blood that decorated his elbows and streaked his shirt, and the painful deliberation with which he moved.  But when he caught sight of Mac he smiled his perfect, patented flyboy smile, and all of her fears evaporated.

Mac rushed forward.  For the first time in their many years of friendship, she allowed herself to act on the feelings that surged inside her whenever Harm put himself in danger.  She threw herself into her husband's arms, indulging her need to hold him, touch him.

Harm hugged her back.  "Hey, Ninja Girl.  Don't tell me you were worried about me."  His voice was full of laughter.

Mac grinned, knowing he could read the truth in her eyes.  "Nah.  I just missed you."

Chuckling, Harm released her, but kept an arm about her waist as they moved away from the helicopter.  Mac was aware of Nikki Upton watching them from where the Coast Guard medic was examining her, a peculiar expression on her face.  Mac deliberately turned away.

"What happened?" she asked Harm.

He shook his head.  "I guess she was standing at the edge of the cliff.  It gave way, and she fell about ninety feet before managing to stop her fall."  He glanced in Nikki's direction.  "She's in pretty good shape, all things considered."

"Thanks to you, no doubt."

He grinned, but whatever reply he might have made was lost when one of the Coast Guard crew approached them.  He held a first aid kit in one hand.

"Sir, I came to make sure you're all right.  You're bleeding in a couple of places that I can see."

Harm glanced down at himself, obviously surprised, then shrugged.  Mac helped him shed his ruined shirt, noting how gingerly he moved with new concern.

"What did you do?  Crack a rib?"  She kept her voice light.  She'd seen Harm chafe when his various girlfriends had tried to mother him.  She doubted she'd have much more success.

Shaking his head, Harm settled on the edge of the landing pad.  "No, it's all in my shoulders.  I'm sure I pulled something-- probably a few somethings."  He gave her a rueful smile as she sat down beside him.  "I'm getting too old to play hero."

Mac looked him over.  He was a mess of scrapes and bruises, but nothing that looked like it would hurt for more than a few days.  Her eyes traced the clean lines of his chest, watching the subtle play of muscles as he moved, breathed.

"I don't think so."

She didn't realize she'd spoken aloud until the crewman tending Harm chuckled.  Mac flushed and looked away, covering her mouth with one hand.  _Yep, that's me.  Harmon Rabb's personal groupie._  The thought made her smile.

After a moment, Harm shifted his seat until his thigh brushed hers.  "So how was your day, dear?"

Mac chuckled.  "It was fine until you called me _dear_."

He laughed.  Mac joined him.  She was amazed by how different she felt now compared to all the other times she'd been with Harm after he came back from something dangerous. Then, she'd had to fight to keep her fear, her rage, her relief all bottled up-- invisible.  Today she could openly admit her relief and laugh her fears away.

Mac looked at her husband, wondering why.  _There are no more regrets between us_, she finally decided.  That was the difference.  Hopefully, they would never have to live with regrets again, not where each other was concerned.

Mac reached over to take Harm's hand, relishing the feel of his fingers closing around hers.  _No more regrets_, she repeated, this time making the words a promise.

Note from Valerie: I promise next chapter will show the rest of the JAG crew's reactions to what's going on.


	19. [19]

Chapter 19

Thursday morning, A.J.'s work was interrupted by what sounded like a somewhat heated conversation taking place outside his office. He stepped unobtrusively up to the open doorway to listen. The topic wasn't too hard to guess. He'd seen the evening news the night before, with its brief clip of Commander Rabb dangling upside down from a rappelling line in the midst of what was being called a "daring rescue attempt". Steiner had released just enough footage to whet the audience's appetite-- even A.J. could get nothing more from him save a confidential assurance that the commander was unhurt. The entertainment column in the morning paper was predicting a record audience for the premiere episode that night, thanks in part to Rabb's foolhardy heroics and the ensuing media coverage.

A.J. peeked around the corner. Gunny, Tiner, Singer and Harriet were standing in a cluster beside Tiner's desk.

"I'll bet Colonel MacKenzie was mad," Gunny was saying, "with her husband going off and playing hero with some cute blond."

"Oh, come off it, Galindez." Lieutenant Singer rolled her eyes. "Why would she care? It's not like they're _really_ married."

Gunny shook his head. "You weren't there, ma'am. They're married."

"You mean, in the biblical sense?" Tiner chimed in, a bit wide-eyed. The comment earned him a snort from Gunny and a reproving stare from Harriet.

"Lieutenant!" Harriet scolded, her disapproval marred by a smile she couldn't quite hide. "Don't forget these are senior officers we're talking about."

Tiner stiffened at the rebuke. "Yes, ma'am."

Singer frowned at the exchange, her face its usual disdainful mask. "Even if it's true-- and I doubt it is, by the way-- it won't last. They'll be divorced inside a year. Two, tops."

There was a moment's silence, in which A.J. had to force himself not to step out of his office. It was beneath him to get involved in such a petty squabble. 

Galindez broke the silence with a chuckle. "Yeah, right. I'll believe it when I see it, ma'am."

Harriet cocked her head, giving Singer a penetrating stare. "What makes you say that, Lieutenant?" The question was sincere, if somewhat wary.

"Several things." Singer raised her chin a fraction. "First-- and with all due respect--" the aside was said in a slightly mocking tone. "The commander isn't exactly a one-woman man, if you get my drift. Even if he reforms now, his mid-life crisis is just around the corner. If you don't think there won't be a string of bimbos _then_, you're being naïve."

A.J. winced invisibly at the thought of Rabb hitting mid-life. The man already got into enough trouble as it was. Hopefully that day was still a few years off, though A.J. suspected it would begin the moment the commander could no longer fly fighters.

"Second," Singer continued, "Colonel MacKenzie is very much the jealous type, all her talk notwithstanding. She's never going to completely believe he's _not_ cheating on her, so she's going to keep demanding proof. You know… 'If you love me, you won't go out with the guys tonight.' 'If you love me, you won't do your carrier quals this year.'" She mimicked Mac's throaty voice surprisingly well. "Over time, one ultimatum will lead to another and eventually…" Singer shrugged as if it were of no consequence to her. "Well, you get the idea."

A.J. pursed his lips. _Singer, I think you missed your calling as a clinical psychologist._ Despite himself, A.J. was impressed by the analysis. He thought she was being too bleak, but her take on the two officers' characters was disturbingly accurate. It was probably a good thing she hadn't gone into psychology, though. There was no telling how many patients she would have killed trying to cure them.

"Lieutenant, I think you put entirely too little trust in the commander and the colonel." Harriet's firm statement made A.J. smile. "They're great together."

"I guess we'll find out tonight, won't we." Singer nodded to the other three and took her leave from the conversation.

Tiner and Gunny exchanged worried looks, then turned in concert to stare at Harriet. "She's coming tonight?"

Harriet shrugged. "I couldn't very well _not_ invite her. It would be rude."

There was a short pause in which many things were carefully left unsaid.

"Hey, does anyone know if Colonel MacKenzie is going to change her name?" Tiner asked suddenly. "It's going to be confusing to have two Rabbs in the office."

Gunny shrugged. "At least their rank structures are different."

"I'd love to see the clients' reactions when they find out their defense attorney is married to the prosecution."

Gunny frowned at Tiner. "I'm not sure they'll be allowed to go against each other in court any more. 'Appearance of impropriety' and all that."

Harriet gathered up a pile of papers from the corner of Tiner's desk. "Well, I'm sure it's a small price to pay, all things considered. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really need to get back to work." She smiled at the two and walked away.

A.J. decided he'd better get back to his desk before someone noticed his eavesdropping. He'd already been turning over the question of how to handle having his two most senior attorneys married to each other, but as he settled in his chair, he pushed the thought away. The SecNav himself had promised he could keep them both in JAG. He was certain they would be able to work out the details.

#

Somehow, A.J. thought, word of the JAG _Temptation Cruise_ party must have spread. He didn't think Harriet could possibly have invited all the people who filled the Roberts' small home to overflowing. The guests were a truly astonishing mix of people, all of whom seemed to have agreed to shed their various ranks and positions for the night to a degree that shocked the Admiral. He'd counted a total of three congresspeople, one senator, two judges… and one very uncomfortable-looking CIA agent in the press.

"You couldn't resist either, I see, A.J." Judge Amy Helfman stepped up beside him, a glass of wine in one hand. Her normally solemn gaze flashed with amusement. "What's your excuse?"

"I'm staying abreast of an ongoing undercover investigation." He cracked a smile. "What's yours?"

She chuckled. "Me? Oh, I've always been a closet soap opera addict."

"This is a far more sordid obsession than _Guiding Light_, Your Honor." Clayton Webb raised his glass in salute as he joined them.

"I notice that didn't deter you," A.J. pointed out.

Webb grinned. "Heck, no. I think we've all been quietly dying to see these two together, so why not indulge my voyeuristic side along with the rest?"

Bud Roberts appeared at A.J.'s elbow then,saving him from a response. "Sirs, ma'am, it's almost eight o' clock. The show's about to start."

"Thank you, Bud." A.J. nodded to his conversation mates then went to find himself a seat. 

Meanwhile, Harriet stepped up in front of the muted t.v. and raised her voice. "If I could have everyone's attention, we're about to get started here." 

The volume in the room dipped for a moment, then resumed. People found seats or stood behind the clustered furniture, drinks in hand. Harriet had popped a truly astounding amount of popcorn, which circulated the room in two large tupperware bowls.

"Now," Harriet said, clapping her hands together in front of her, "we all know why we're here--"

"To see Colonel MacKenzie in a bikini!" Webb called from the back of the room, to loud applause and a few whistles.

"Webb!" A.J. stared at the CIA man, who grinned impudently.

Harriet made shushing motions and slowly regained the room's attention. "Seriously, I think we've all, at one time or another, thought to ourselves that Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie would make a great couple. I know I have." She grinned, bouncing with excitement. "So tonight, we'll finally get to see them together." 

"Everybody sing it with me," Tiner jumped in. "_Am I the only one who hears the screams, and the strangled cries of lawyers in love…_"

"_Lieutenant!_" A.J.'s bark cut through the howls of laughter.

Tiner straightened abruptly in his chair. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." He looked intimidated but not very repentant. 

Sighing, A.J. stood and held up his hands. The room quieted expectantly.

A.J. let his gaze roam the gathering. "It appears I need say something on a serious note, before this evening gets _entirely_ out of hand."

"Oh, lighten up, Admiral." Bobbi Latham grinned sweetly to take the sting out of her words. "Personally, I've been looking forward to this premiere ever since that little get together at your place. Harm and Mac put on quite the show." She raised her eyebrows expressively.

A.J. fought the temptation to roll his eyes. "May I remind you all that Commander and Colonel Rabb's presence on this show remains part of an serious undercover investigation, despite all appearances, which I'm sure will be quite to the contrary." He was a little afraid of just how contrary. Harm and Mac would still have to work with these people when they returned.

"Let me also remind you all that you are professionals, whether military or civilian, and that I expect everyone to maintain a certain level of decorum this evening." A.J. swept the room with his gaze, noting the subtle shift of expressions. Satisfied, he let the smile he'd been holding in emerge. "But don't let that dim your enthusiasm."

He retired to his chair while a chorus of "Yes, sir!"s ran around the room, accompanied by laughter.

The show started a few moments later. The theme music began, heavy with tribal drum rhythms, as the _Temptation Cruise II_ logo appeared. Images flashed across the screen. Some were obviously staged shots, others "real". Each of the couples was shown in some kind of sultry pose as the announcer said their names. In Harm and Mac's case, the two stood face to face, his arms hooked around her waist, holding her close. They were dressed for a night on the town save that the commander's shirt was about halfway unbuttoned. Mac held the lapels in her slender hands as if she'd paused for a moment in the early stages of undressing him. They were staring at each other, smoky gazes unmistakable, until something off camera called for their attention. The two turned in unison to look at the camera, and then the scene cut away.

"This is going to be worse than I thought," A.J. muttered under his breath.

Beside him, Bobbi Latham laughed. "But just think how much ammunition this will give us to use against them. I'm not going to have to do Harm any more favors for quite some time," she added, her tone playfully smug.

"Don't bet on it, Congresswoman," Webb said from across the room. "He'll find a way to guilt you into it no matter what you've got on him."

Bobbi turned, her grin deepening. "Are you speaking from personal experience, Mr. Webb?"

Webb cleared his throat and looked away, eliciting a chuckle from A.J.

The t.v. soon recaptured his attention. The show's host stood on a tropical-looking beach, explaining to the audience the rules of the competition. He moved quickly from there into a combination introduction of each couple and summary of the wedding ceremonies.

"Today saw nine couples joined in holy matrimony," the host said from his spot on the beach. "Obviously, we can't show you everything, but we will give you the highlights. Some of the weddings were perfect--" the screen flashed through several scenes of couples saying 'I do' or exchanging rings and kisses. "Some were not so perfect--" The t.v. jumped to a scene that could have come from America's Funniest Home Videos, with a bride tripping on her skirt and wiping out both her husband-to-be and best man. "And some were just a little strange." This time the scene was of Harm scratching a square in the sand. The camera stayed with them as he explained his actions and Mac's inexplicably happy response.

"Does anybody know what their thing was with the porch?" Victor Galindez asked, his gaze on Sturgis.

Sturgis raised his hands. "Why are you looking at me? I don't know any more than the rest of you, and probably less. I'm the newcomer around here, remember?"

"So, Harm, Mac, what was the significance of the porch?" This time, the question came from the television. Harm and Mac sat in plush chairs side by side, their casual dress proclaiming that this had taken place sometime after the wedding. Their hands were clasped, balanced on the adjoining arms. A thirty-ish woman sat across from them. The set up was very obviously an interview. 

The first thing A.J. noticed beyond the oddity of seeing his officers holding hands was how relaxed and happy both seemed.

At the question, however, the two shared a significant, slightly guilty look. "We're going to have to come clean about that, aren't we?" Mac asked Harm. 

His answering chuckle held a clear note of embarrassment. "Go right ahead. It was your engagement party, after all."

She rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks."

A.J. blinked as the implications sank in. 

"You know, they did spend an awful lot of time together on your front porch that night, Admiral." Bud's eyes were round with realization. "You don't think… something happened… do you?"

"I think we're going to find out, Mr. Roberts," he answered tightly. He felt just a little trepidation at the prospect.

Onscreen, the perky interviewer gave Harm a curious look. "Now, when you say 'your engagement party', I'm assuming you mean she wasn't engaged to you at the time." 

A.J. saw the aviator's unflappable cool settle into place. "That would be correct," he answered with an easy smile. 

"What happened?"

Harm glanced at Mac, giving her the field. She stared down into her lap for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "Let's see. It was the night of my engagement party. A friend hosted it at his house. Harm had gone out to the front porch to wait for his girlfriend, who was running late, and I went to talk to him about a case we were working on at the time." She flashed Harm a nervous smile. "We ended up talking about old times and… and why it had never worked out between us, I guess. It was supposed to be a goodbye of sorts."

Mac paused for a deep, bracing breath. "To make a long story short, he kissed me… or I kissed him… I'm not really sure who started it… and all the things we felt for each other but had never said somehow just… boiled out in that kiss--" 

"Sounds passionate," the interviewer observed.

Harm arched his eyebrows. "You have no idea."

The interviewer laughed. "So your friend's porch was where you two first realized you loved each other?"

Mac's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Not really." She glanced at Harm. "I knew long before that, anyway."

He shrugged. "Me too, I guess. But that was the first time we allowed ourselves to realize how deep it ran." He raised Mac's hand to his lips, watching her all the while. She smiled gently in return.

"Did you know about this, A.J.?" Bobbi asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

A.J. looked at her. "That two of my officers were making out on my front porch at such an inappropriate moment? No, I most certainly did not." He wondered if he sounded properly appalled, or just irritated at his ignorance. "If I had, Ms. Latham, you can be sure I would have done something about it."

"Like?" Bobbi continued to grin at him. But then again, baiting people was one of her favorite sports.

A.J. lowered his voice to a murmur. "Like ordering them to take it to the guest bedroom and not come out again until they'd figured out what they wanted." He met Bobbi's gaze squarely. "Just think: Rabb wouldn't have gone down in the Atlantic, Mac wouldn't have gone TAD for three months… can you imagine how much more work my office could have gotten done this past year if I'd known what was going on then?"

Bobbi chuckled. "I never took you for such a romantic, Admiral."

"Thank heaven for small favors."

The premiere continued with introductions of each of the singles on the cruise. 

"Hey, look. It's the commander's chippie." Singer pointed to the television. A young woman with shoulder length blond hair and a deep tan was smiling for the camera.

"Singer!" Harriet stared at the other woman, who shrugged.

"I just call 'em like I see 'em," she answered. 

Nikki Upton, A.J. thought, was far too attractive for comfort's sake. To him she looked painfully young, but from the comments the young men in the room were making, he deduced that he was probably outnumbered in his opinion. Unfortunately, Commander Rabb fell somewhere between those two examples. He wondered what that would mean.

"She's not as pretty as Mac," Bobbi observed while Nikki told the audience about her childhood in southern California.

"She is blond though, ma'am," Gunny returned.

Bobbi turned on him. "Is that supposed to mean something, Sergeant? Gentlemen prefer blonds, perhaps?" Her question was as sharp as her glare.

Galindez sucked in his breath. "No, ma'am. I wasn't speaking personally… it's just that Commander Rabb does seem to have a thing about blonds."

"You know, that's true." Bud looked between the two with surprised realization. "Renee, Jordyn, Annie…"

"_I'm_ not blond," Bobbi pointed out, her expression one of feigned injury.

Bud paused for a moment, staring at her. His mouth closed with a snap. "No, ma'am." A.J. chuckled.

Sturgis turned to the congresswoman, his expression curious but not entirely pleased. "Were you planning to tell me about this at some point, Bobbi?"

"You didn't know?" 

"Should I have?"

She gave him a helpless look. "I figured _someone _would have said something, if no other reason than to make Harm squirm."

Sturgis's expression cleared. "Ah." He glanced at A.J. "In retrospect, I believe the Admiral attempted to tell me, but I apparently missed the full implication of his words."

Bobbi chuckled and waved one hand dismissively. "There's very little to tell, honestly." She smiled. "Even if Mac weren't around, you would have nothing to worry about."

A.J. returned his attention to the show once he was certain _another_ of his officers' love lives wasn't about to blow up. With the introductions complete, the show had gone into commercials. A.J. took the opportunity to refill his drink.

When he returned to his seat, the show's host stood at the ship's rail. "Paradise hasn't been without its ups and downs for these nine couples already. Very soon, we'll show you who's been arguing and why. But first, let's go to our panel of experts for some quick and dirty predictions."

The scene flashed to a group of four people-- two men and two women-- sitting in a loose semi-circle across from the female interviewer they'd seen before. Each of the four was introduced as some kind of psychologist or relationship counselor.

The interviewer checked her cue cards, then looked at the panelists. "Having had forty-eight hours now to observe the couples, who do you predict will win?"

"The Andersons," one promptly answered and heads nodded down the line. 

"What? No way!" Boos filled the Roberts' living room. Tiner even went so far as to throw a piece of popcorn at the t.v.

The interviewer continued her questions. "All right. Who do you predict will be the first couple disqualified from the competition?"

"The Na's."

"The Coopers."

"No, the Sorensons."

"Opinions appear to be divided." The interviewer smiled at the foursome. "Which couple would you say is most passionate?"

"The Rabbs." 

Several people cheered. A.J. had to smile. _Add 'mule-headed' and 'prone to getting in trouble', and that pretty much sums them up._

"I'd have to say Crossby/Esperanza," one of the others countered. 

"And the most likely to still be married fifty years from now?"

"The Andersons."

"The Washingtons."

"The Rabbs."

The other panelists heads turned toward their colleague in surprise. He leaned forward. "Consider what we've seen and heard just in these first forty-eight hours. They've been through too much to get to this point," he explained. "They're not going to let anything permanently separate them."

A.J. raised his cup in solemn salute to the psychologist. "Amen to that."

The interviewer cocked her head, her expression doubtful. "But you don't think the Rabbs are likely to win this competition?"

The psychologist just shrugged. "No. But I think they'd survive an affair."

Silence filled the Roberts'. A.J. felt a growing anger at the very thought. "Well, they wouldn't survive me," he growled at the television. "I would personally wring the responsible party's neck and send the broken corpse straight to Hell in a custom-crafted handbasket."

"I'm sure people would be lining up to crucify the commander, sir," Gunny assured him, his dark eyes snapping as if he had every intention of being first in said line.

"I hate to say this, Galindez," Webb injected calmly, "but you probably have the wrong culprit. Mac's got the rotten track record there. Harm may have had a lot of women…" For a moment a spark of humor showed through. "But never more than one at a time."

"How do you know?"

"I'm CIA, Gunny. We know everything." He flashed Galindez a superior smile.

Tiner threw popcorn at him.

Following on the panelists' discussion, the television began showing arguments. Trash t.v. that it was, of course _Temptation Cruise_ spent a great deal of time focusing on any and every apparent rift between couples. Some of it was ludicrous enough to laugh at, but seeing Harm and Mac at each other's throats over Brumby while still dressed in their wedding attire tore at A.J.'s heart. His hands clenched into fists that didn't relax until they'd resolved the argument. And when Commander Rabb dipped his new wife there in the passageway for a passionate kiss, resounding applause broke out in the Roberts' living room. A.J. cheered right along with the rest.

The general mood lightened as they watched snippets of _The Newlywed Game_. A.J. got to explain to those who were unaware about Mac and Harm's ill-fated flying expedition and why 'Crash' was so incredibly apropos as a description. And later, Mac's "Do I _look_ fat?" drew shrieks of laughter from the women in the room. 

"I have to hand it to him," Judge Helfman said with a smile. She gestured toward the t.v. with her glass, her eyebrows raised in amusement. "He managed to answer the unanswerable question."

Webb started to chuckle. "Can you imagine what would have happened if he'd tanked that one?"

"He'd have had one ticked off Marine on his hands, that's for sure," Gunny said.

Webb tossed off the last of his drink. "Jerry Springer, eat your heart out."

After another commercial break, the premiere moved into its last segment-- the outing. The host returned to give them a short introduction.

"As you are all probably aware, the first outing didn't exactly go as planned. Due to a very serious emergency, the details of which we'll show you in a little while, the day's activities ended slightly before noon. However, before we get to the potentially deadly situation two of our number found themselves in, let's take a look at how the rest of the couples enjoyed the early part of the day."

A.J. and the others were treated to a montage of film clips, each showing a man and woman involved in various innocuous vacationing activities. They saw John Washington struggling to figure out how to use a Ski-Doo while his companion darted across the waves in the distance. They also saw Stacy Anderson giggling, one hand clasped in her companion's as he gallantly helped her across a rickety wood bridge. 

"Whoa, baby!" Webb's comment summed up the general male reaction as Mac's image appeared. She lay sprawled on her back in the sand, staring at the cloudless sky as she turned a seashell over in her fingers. Her bikini and flawless tan only made her more lovely-- not to mention more visible-- than usual.

"You're not planning on forming a fan club, are you, Webb?" A.J. asked with as much disdain as he could muster.

A male voice from offscreen accompanied Mac's image, either reading or reciting poetry. As they watched, Mac rolled her eyes and exhaled her breath in a sigh that fluttered her short bangs.

"Now _that_ is a bored Marine," Bobbi observed.

"Well, you know Marines, ma'am," Tiner said with a sly glance in Gunny's direction. "They think beaches are only good for invading."

"At least we're not afraid to get off our boats and get in a real fight," Galindez returned. 

"Gentlemen." A.J. called them to order before the generally friendly rivalry could get out of control.

After a little while, the show's host returned. This time he stood on a humid jungle plateau, rugged mountains framing him in an awe-inspiring backdrop.

"Here is where it happened," he solemnly told the audience. "Here is where a woman nearly lost her life, and a man put his own at risk to save her." The host gestured toward the cliff edge. "The cliff below me is a staggering five hundred and eighty-four feet tall. I warn you that some of the footage you are going to see may be disturbing, even frightening. If you are easily alarmed or have a fear of heights, we advise you to use discretion while watching this next segment."

This time it was Gunny who threw popcorn at the t.v. "Would you get on with it already?"

The host steepled his fingers in front of him. "The story actually starts this morning as our couples said good-bye to their spouses and prepared to head out for the day. Specifically, I'm talking about Harm and Sarah Rabb." The screen changed to show Harm and Mac amid the milling chaos that had to be the staging area on the beach. The host's voice continued to narrate as Harm turned abruptly to sweep his wife up in a desperate-looking kiss.

"It seems like Harm somehow sensed the danger that lie ahead for him," the host observed, "if this kiss is any indicator. But the day started out routinely enough."

The view changed to show Harm and the single girl, Nikki, climbing a rugged trail. They exchanged occasional words in sporadic but friendly banter.

"What Harm could not have known was that his companion had put a plan into motion that would nearly cost her her life."

They watched as Nikki took off up the trail ahead of Harm and emerged on the same clearing where the host had been standing. She turned to face the camera, then proceeded to explain her plan for letting Harm rescue her and become her hero.

A.J. felt the blood drain from his face at the girl's unimaginable foolishness.

"What an idiot!" Gunny shook his head sadly.

Singer shook her head also, but in disgust. "Boy, did she ever nail _that_ one on the head. The commander is _such_ a sucker for the whole 'damsel in distress' thing. I wonder if he thinks women really like that."

Bobbi turned to give her a wide-eyed, innocent stare. "You mean we're not supposed to?" At Singer's affronted look, she chucked. "I'm a huge fan of seeing women take charge of their lives and accomplish anything and everything a man can… but I'll be the first to admit I love having a big, strong man to come to my rescue when I need it."

"And when have you ever needed rescuing, Congresswoman?" Sturgis asked her with a smile.

She grinned. "Why, every time I go to open a new jar of olives. Or have to program my VCR."

Harriet wrinkled her nose in an impish expression. "For me it's every time the car makes a funny noise." She smiled at Bud.

"Or I need to hitch the trailer to my truck," added Judge Helfman.

Bobbi laughed. "See, men are indispensable."

While the conversation was taking place, on the television, Nikki had gone to the edge of the cliff to look for tree roots. The collapse was so sudden it startled the room into silence, broken only by Nikki's scream. The camera cut to Commander Rabb where he rested further down the trail. His head snapped up at the sound, his face filled with alarm.

They watched in silence for the first tense minutes as Harm ran to the clearing, assessed the situation and devised a plan. A.J. could see him become the officer he was. He gave orders will the full expectation of being obeyed, his assumption of command both effortless and efficient. A.J. found himself nodding as Harm walked down the cliff.

"Well done, Commander," he said softly.

" I do believe he'll make a good CO someday," Sturgis added.

A.J. chuckled. "With a few years of marriage and fatherhood to mature him, I'd have to agree." He crossed his arms. "Maybe by then I'll be ready to retire."

"You, sir?" Sturgis smiled indulgently "I'll believe _that_ when I see it."

The remainder of the rescue footage was a mixture of tape shot from a helicopter and images from the second cameraman who'd been with the commander. There was little sound beyond the noise of the helicopter blades and the few instructions Harm had shouted up the cliff face. But it wasn't hard to guess the conversation that took place between Harm and the girl. Her heart was written on her face-- desperation, hope, and faith. The way she clung to the commander after the rescue helicopter arrived spoke very loudly of her feelings.

"You know, that's going to be trouble." Harriet watched the screen with a worried frown as the Coast Guard helicopter landed at the beach to disgorge its battered passengers. 

Webb waved the comment away. "Pfah. Harm's hardly going to be impressed. He gets to play hero all the time." His gaze cut toward A.J. "Amazing thing, that, especially since JAG is considered a non-combat assignment."

"Oh, I'm not worried about Commander Rabb," Harriet assured him quickly. "I'm worried about that girl. Did you see her face when Harm and Mac walked away together?"

Webb's brow wrinkled. "What about it?"

"Ooooh, she's right." Bobbi's mouth formed a little moue of concern. "Nikki might have been trying to win Harm's heart with her little stunt, but it worked the other way around."

"Meaning?"

Harriet gave him an are-you-really-that-dense look. "She thinks she's in love with him, Mr. Webb."

There was a short moment of silence.

"Well, I wouldn't be too concerned," A.J. finally said, his voice intentionally casual. "I'm sure Mac can handle it. And her."

"Probably with a good old-fashioned right cross," Gunny added with evident satisfaction.

On the television, the episode was wrapping up. Harm and Mac sat side by side, hands clasped, while the Coast Guard medic looked Harm over. The two appeared to have eyes only for each other as they talked and laughed. The camaraderie that had always characterized their relationship showed clearly, but it had grown into something new. Something stronger and deeper than any mere friendship could be. A.J. felt an almost fatherly swell of pride.

For the first time since the entire investigation had begun, A.J. began to feel truly confident that the two would be able to make it work.


	20. [20]

Chapter 20

The next few weeks passed with less trouble than Harm expected. After that first, disastrous outing, the others somehow seemed mundane. As did the women. What he'd feared might really be a long, hard struggle with temptation had turned out to be… very little. Certainly the girls were attractive, but that was hardly enough to divert his attention from Mac. Not when she was everything he'd ever wanted. 

The cruise wasn't an entirely pleasant situation, but it was manageable. 

Truth be told, managing Mac was far harder (though infinitely more rewarding) than dealing with all the rest of the women on the ship put together, _including_ Nikki Upton who was beginning to make Singer seem like a pleasant person. 

Harm had come to recognize the constant tug-o-war taking place inside his wife-- trust in him versus a numbing terror that he would betray and abandon her, just like her parents had. On the one hand, he understood that her fear wasn't a reflection of him, or even their marriage-- that it was a byproduct of the home she'd grown up in. But on the other hand, it _hurt_. Every time suspicion and fear flared in her eyes, he felt like he'd taken a gut shot. _Why won't you trust me?_ was always the first thing that wanted to leap off his tongue, and the one he worked hardest to keep hold of. It wasn't about trust. No that was wrong, he corrected himself. It _was_ about trust. It just wasn't about _him._

Sighing softly, Harm opened his eyes. He wasn't going to get any more sleep this morning. He turned his head. Mac lay facing away from him, curled up in a ball with the covers tucked up to her chin, as always. The steady rise and fall of her breath confirmed she was still sleeping. 

Rolling onto his side, he reached out beneath the covers to brush the backs of his knuckles along her spine, relishing the simple act of touching her. The warmth of her skin comforted him in a way nothing else could. For a moment he let his eyes close, wondering if he might be able to go back to sleep after all. 

After a few minutes, he reopened his eyes. Not today. Moving carefully so as not to wake Mac, he slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom. A tiny smile lit his features. Not the head, the bathroom. He was getting into the habit of using the "proper" word. For a moment he wondered what would happen if he ever made the opposite mistake while onboard a Navy ship. _Probably bust me back to lieutenant_, he thought with a grin_._

Once inside, he secured the door and spent a few minutes brushing his teeth and splashing water on his face. When he felt reasonable coherent, he turned on the shower, leaving the water set on cold. Then he fished under the sink for the black case containing the satellite phone. He and Mac had accumulated a number of questions over the past couple of weeks-- questions they couldn't answer without reviewing the evidence. There was some risk in using the phone, but they'd searched the confines of the little room several times without finding any sign of bugs, so he was willing to take the chance.

"Good morning, Bud," he said when the lieutenant answered his phone at JAG. 

There was a short pause. Harm imagined his friend's eyes widening the way they did when he was startled.

"Good morning, sir. It's good to hear from you." The warmth of the greeting gave way to cautious alarm. "Is everything all right, sir?"

"Everything's fine, Bud." Harm rubbed his eyes, trying to extinguish the last of his grogginess. "I need some information, though."

"Name it, sir."

"I need you to go through the testimony from the two Naval reservists and compare it with Mrs. Antony's statements about the notes she sent them. I want to know when, how many, what each one said, and if there are any discrepancies in their accounts."

Harm could hear the scratch of Bud's pencil in the background. "Yes, sir."

"Also, how is the sorting job going with the tape from the first show?" Before he and Mac left, they'd tasked a couple of ensigns with the unenviable job of going through every single recording made during the first cruise to look for missing segments. Failures did happen, but a blank spot might also be an indication that someone-- namely Ariel-- was doing something he didn't want recorded.

"It's going, sir. It'll probably be at least a week before they're done, though."

Harm kept his sigh to himself. They had the time to spend, but if he and Mac could wrap up the case before the end of the cruise, he would be more than happy to do so. "O.k. I'll check back on that one."

"Anything else, sir?" Bud asked.

"Yeah. I want you to have the rape recording analyzed."

"We've already had it checked for tampering, sir. It's not a fake."

"No, I didn't think it would be, Bud. What I want to know is why the recording quality was so poor. According to all the involved parties, the incident took place in one of the ship's cabins, so the recording should have been as good as anything else used on the show. I'm assuming what you're seeing on t.v. twice a week is a lot higher quality than that footage, right?"

Bud cleared his throat. "Uh, yes, sir."

"Then I want to know why."

"Got it, sir." There was a pause in which Bud was obviously gathering himself to say something forward. "…sir?"

"Yes?" Harm tried to keep the amusement out of his voice. He could all too easily guess what it would be.

"I just want you to know that… we're all rooting for you and the colonel, sir."

Harm grinned, deliberately misunderstanding. "To solve this case? Why, thanks, Bud."

"No no no, sir. I mean… in the competition. The show." Harm was fairly certain the lieutenant was blushing furiously and fought to keep from laughing.

"Ah. Is anyone giving us odds?"

"Lieutenant Singer is running a pool, if that's what you're asking… but, don't ask. You don't want to know what odds she's giving you." A smug note crept into his voice. "Some of us are going to make a lot of money at the end of this thing." 

At that, Harm did laugh, though he kept it quiet for fear that the cabin recording system would pick it up. "Bud, I like your style."

"Thank you, sir."

"Is there anything else I need to know?"

"I don't think so."

"How's Sergei doing?"

"Fine, as far as I know, sir."

Harm nodded and ran a hand through his sleep-rumpled hair. "O.k. I'll check back with you in a couple of days."

"Sounds good, sir."

Harm disconnected the call and replaced the phone in its case. He doubted they would find sufficient evidence from the first show to implicate Ariel, if he was indeed guilty. Most likely, it would all come down to his and Mac's ability to set themselves up as candidates for a repeat offense… and that was someplace Harm really did not want to go.

#

"Did you hear?" Carmen asked brightly as Mac and Harm walked up to the table where she, Boothe, and the Washingtons sat together over lunch. Mac watched her warily. There was something… off about her behavior. Something sharp and brittle in her gaze that Mac didn't like at all. 

"Did we hear what?" Mac asked while Harm pulled out her chair for her. It was, by now, a familiar courtesy, but eyebrows still went up around the table.

"The Sorensens are out, as of this morning."

"And then there were five," Harm commented quietly as he took the chair beside Mac. With the Sorensons gone, the only couples remaining were the three seated around the table, Jeb and Stacy, and the Moleneuxs, a couple from New Orleans. 

Mac picked up her menu, her appetite dimmed. Beneath the table, Harm laid a hand on her thigh and gave her an encouraging squeeze.

"Aren't you going to ask what happened?" Carmen said after a moment.

Mac sipped her water, meeting the other woman's gaze over the rim. "I don't particularly want to know the details."

Delia chuckled. "Good for you, Mac. I don't have that much willpower when it comes to gossip."

Carmen's gaze roamed the table, looking for a more receptive audience. Harm and John were chatting good-naturedly about the hazards of a red meat diet, something Harm believed and John just liked to razz him about. Delia and Boothe had apparently already heard the story, but Mac didn't think that would stop Carmen.

It didn't. "Apparently, Mrs. Sorenson decided she'd had enough of her husband treatin' her like _dirt_… so she went to the bar, got up on one of the tables, took off all her clothes, and then asked who wanted to take her home."

The table went quiet at Carmen's abrupt statement, or, more likely, the vicious tone with which she'd said it. Mac's nerves began to scream as long buried warning signals came to life in her mind. She fought to keep her expression mild. Beneath the table, she caught Harm's hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. His instincts were good. If something were really wrong he would notice, too. But when she risked a glance at him, all she saw in his eyes was puzzlement and concern.

John broke the silence with a long sigh. "I wonder if it's worth it." He waved a hand. "All this."

"Worth a million dollars?" Harm asked.

John shrugged and looked tenderly at his wife. "Worth anything."

Delia smiled back, a surprisingly shy expression from the brash, outspoken woman.

"Are you guys thinking of withdrawing?" Mac asked. For some reason her heart was fluttering in her chest. With hope for them? For herself?

John's answer was another shrug, but Delia nodded. "Thinking about it," she confirmed.

Harm solemnly offered his hand, and John shook it. "Well, we wish you the best, whatever you decide to do," Harm said, and Mac could hear the sincerity behind his words.

John smiled. "Thanks."

#

"Lieutenant Roberts is here to see you, sir." Tiner's voice sounded tinny on the desk speaker in the Admiral's office.

"Send him in," A.J. replied. He didn't look up from the newspaper that lay on the desk before him as the door opened, then closed with a soft _thunk_. He heard Bud's footsteps approach, coming to a precise halt in front of the desk.

"At ease." A.J. looked up into Lieutenant Robert's round face. _Salt of the earth_, he thought as he always did when he saw Bud. If God had made a more humble man than Bud Roberts, A.J. had yet to meet him. And with the growing confidence that age and experience were bringing, the Admiral suspected the lieutenant would mature into a very fine officer indeed.

A.J. sat back with a frown. "Have you seen the paper this morning, lieutenant?"

Bud shook his head. "No, sir."

A.J. picked up the section he'd been reading and handed it to Bud. "It appears Rabb and MacKen--" He paused, struck by the humor in his own slip. "Rabb and Rabb?" He shook his head at that one. Happy as he was for them, it really did complicate things. "The commander and the colonel's identities have finally been discovered by the media."

Bud glanced at the paper in his hands, taking in the gist of the entertainment page's top story in a matter of seconds. "It certainly took them long enough," he said. A.J. had to smile at the assessment. 

"Have you talked to Mr. Webb about this yet, sir?" Bud asked.

"Actually, I'm going to let you do that, lieutenant."

Bud nodded, not looking terribly pleased. "Yes, sir." He folded the paper and tucked it under his arm. "I spoke to Commander Rabb today, sir."

Startled, A.J. stared at him. "I trust nothing has gone wrong?" 

Bud shook his head. "No, sir. At least, not that I know of. He had some questions and I'm working on finding the answers."

A.J. frowned, then nodded in dismissal. "Very well. Keep me apprised." 

Bud came to attention. "Yes, sir."

He watched the lieutenant leave, then turned to his television. He found a midday entertainment show and let it play in the background as he worked. Considering the phone calls he'd been fielding, he would eventually hear something. He wasn't disappointed.

"We have with us today Daniel Steiner, executive producer of the hit reality show, _Temptation Cruise II_."

A.J. turned. A vaguely familiar, stylishly blond woman looked out from the television screen. The camera panned to Steiner, seated beside her. A.J. noted with a touch of asperity that he was dressed in a suit. But then, Steiner no doubt attached far more importance to appearing on t.v. than to visiting the Judge Advocate General of the Navy. The two exchanged pleasantries and other meaningless chitchat for a while, but eventually the woman asked the question the Admiral had been waiting for.

"Mr. Steiner, can you tell us _why_ two of the contestants on your show are really military officers from the Judge Advocate General's office?"

Steiner's expression remained politely neutral. "They are conducting an undercover investigation with the full cooperation of the production studio as well as the FBI."

The woman's eyebrows rose in feigned surprise. "Is this related to the rape allegations made against two employees of the original _Temptation Cruise_?"

Steiner nodded solemnly. "Yes, though I really can't say more about that because of legal considerations."

A.J. nodded in grudging approval. Whatever else Steiner might be, he did know how to handle himself in front of a camera.

The woman shifted in her seat. "All right, then. What can you tell us about the two officers?"

Steiner smiled, warming to his topic. "Harmon Rabb is a commander in the Navy. Sarah Rabb is a lieutenant colonel in the Marine Corps."

"They're really married?"

"Yes."

The woman flashed him a smile. "Now, the Judge Advocate General, that's the military's legal division, correct?" Steiner nodded, and she continued. "So the Rabbs are lawyers?"

"Very good ones, I'm told." Steiner leaned back in his chair, radiating casual ease.

The interviewer paused for a moment, either to check her teleprompter or to gather her thoughts. "We here on the _Morning Show_ did a little background checking on the Rabbs earlier today, and were surprised to learn that both have combat experience. Apparently Colonel Rabb served a tour of duty in Bosnia during the crisis there, and Commander Rabb was… and still is… an F-14 pilot."

Steiner nodded. "Yes."

The woman leaned forward. "How is this information going to affect both the ongoing criminal investigation and your show?"

"It's not." Steiner's casual posture didn't change. "The _Radiant Heart_ and its compliment are totally isolated from the rest of the world. No one there will have any idea the Rabbs are anything but what they seem."

The interviewer's eyebrows rose fractionally as she turned to the camera. "Well, I think it's safe to say we will all be watching the remaining episodes of _Temptation Cruise II_ with great interest to see what happens."

A.J. picked up the remote and switched the television off. He could only hope Webb had the situation under control.


	21. [21]

Chapter 21

Mac jabbed toward Harm's midriff, catching him just beneath the solar plexus. She followed with a second, faster and harder, and was rewarded by a small grunt of pain. 

"You're not playing nice today," Harm observed as he danced out of her reach. They were sparring in the ship's gym. With gloves and headgear, there was little chance for either of them to get hurt, and it made for a nice break from running. Usually.

A crowd generally gathered to watch whenever they did, and today was no exception. Mac really wished they would all go away. The cheering and jokes from the sidelines only served to irritate her.

Mac blocked her husband's return swing, feeling the jolt all the way up into her shoulders. _Ouch._ Not that she hadn't asked for it. She was feeling… violent. This had seemed like the best way to work out the roiling unease that had plagued her since lunchtime. Talking to Carmen had strung her nerves taut and the sensation simply would not go away.

Frustrated, Mac launched herself at Harm, the assault intended for her own untenable emotions rather than him. She went after him with a flurry of punches that forced him to cover up. As he fell back a step, her swings got harder, wilder. A little voice in the back of her head told her she was getting out of control… over-committing, but she didn't care.

Not until Harm's glove came out of nowhere and smacked her in the temple, that is. Mac landed flat on her back, the breath knocked out of her. Flickering lights danced in front of her eyes. She blinked furiously, trying to clear them.

"Mac? You o.k.?" Harm loomed over her, looking worried. "Geez, you walked right into that."

Instinctively, Mac raised a hand to her head, which was starting to throb. But between the glove and the foam helmet, she couldn't really tell how tender the spot was.

"I'm o.k." she told him, angry at herself for dropping her guard.

Harm reached out a hand to help her up. She swatted it away.

"_I'm o.k._" She climbed to her feet and assumed a ready position.

Harm stepped back, his expression guarded. "Mac, what's going on?"

"Nothing. Now shut up and fight." She threw a sharp jab in his direction. He raised his gloves to block the blow and stepped back again.

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

Mac glared at him. She could see the brick wall going up in his eyes-- that infuriating self-controlled calm that nothing could crack. How could she explain to _that_ how she was feeling, especially when she didn't understand it herself? Why would she want to try?

A humorless smile twisted her lips. "Make me."

The blue eyes narrowed, but he made no move to continue. He stood quietly, arms at his sides, watching her. Mac ground her teeth. All she wanted was a good fight. Where was the harm in that? The safety gear would make certain they walked away with nothing but bruises. She'd gotten far worse in the past.

Mac didn't acknowledge the voice in the back of her mind that said, _But not from Harm._

"Come on!" She stalked toward him, fists raised.

Harm raised his gloves in the signal to end the match. "No." Ignoring her approach, he stripped off his gloves and dropped them on the ground. "I have no idea what's gotten into you, Mac, but I don't want to have anything to do with this." He pulled off his helmet, sweat-soaked hair sticking out wildly in all directions. "I'm out."

"Well, you never were very good at hand to hand." The blatant insult startled Mac at least as much as it did Harm, and blunted the edge of her sourceless rage. Harm was actually pretty good at hand to hand, having been trained first in Laos by a Marine Recon colonel, and then later by several different SEAL and Recon teams for various missions he'd gotten involved in. It wasn't something people knew about him since most of the fights he got into were of the bar-brawl variety, where lethal techniques were, by unanimous accord, always left at the door.

Mac saw her husband's eyes go cold. He threw his helmet to the ground with unnecessary force. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." He turned and walked away, his long strides swift and angry.

"Where are you going?" Mac demanded, her anger quickly turning to fear. What in the world was wrong with her?

Harm spared her a sharp glance over his shoulder. "I'm getting out of your hair until you turn back into a reasonable person. Go cool off, Mac." And with that he was gone, leaving Mac alone in the center of a small, silent crowd.

#

Mac spent a solid hour at the punching bag, until her arms felt like lead and her kicks were about as dangerous as an assault with a feather duster. What had possessed her to deliberately alienate Harm like that? 

Exhausted and thoroughly disgusted with herself, she gave the bag one final swipe, then headed for the locker room. She passed several women as she threaded her way through the rows of lockers, all of who seemed to be getting ready for an exercise class. Probably the step aerobics. A brief smile crossed Mac's face. Harm had teased her about doing the class, until she'd said that she would only if he did. She hadn't heard another word on the topic since.

Sighing, Mac dropped onto the bench in front of her locker and rested her elbows on her knees as she worked her gloves off.

"I heard a rumor your old man used to beat you up."

Mac looked up sharply to find Carmen standing a few feet away. She leaned against the row of lockers, arms crossed over her breasts. Her dark eyes, usually hard and uncaring, were filled with a nameless need.

Mac stared at the other woman as all the unease she felt congealed in a bitter pool in her stomach. 

"Mostly my mom, but… yeah," Mac answered, her voice strained. "My first husband, too." She couldn't have said why she answered the question honestly. Carmen was hardly a friend. Yet something in the other woman's gaze compelled her.

"Is that why you took up boxing? So he couldn't hurt you any more?"

Mac dropped her gloves on the floor between her feet. "He was already gone by then. I just wanted to make sure it never happened again."

"Did it work?"

Mac kept a neutral expression on her face as a number of tiny details clicked together in her mind. Slowly, she nodded. 

"Does Boothe hit you, Carmen?" Mac asked in return, her voice tightly controlled.

Carmen's expression closed over. She stared at Mac in silence for several long moments. Mac held her breath, afraid to say anything else for fear of breaking the tenuous link she had with this woman.

Finally, Carmen shrugged. "Sometimes." She looked away, biting her lower lip. "It's my own fault."

"No!" Mac rose to her feet like an uncoiling spring. "Don't say that. It is _not_ your fault!"

Carmen's dead stare didn't change. "What about Harm?"

"What about him?" The question came out more sharply than she intended.

A faint smile touched Carmen's lips. "Does the boxing make sure _he_ won't hurt you?"

Mac was utterly appalled by the idea, but buried her reaction. "Harm's more likely to commit suicide than he is to hit a woman in anger," she answered matter-of-factly. It had taken a long time just to get him to agree to spar with her. She flashed Carmen a tight, rueful smile. "But, the truth is no, kickboxing probably wouldn't be enough if he ever really tried to hurt me." Nine inches and eighty pounds made sure of that. If he didn't have any training at all, maybe... She shook her head softly. "He won't, though."

Carmen's disbelieving snort spoke volumes. "That boy scout routine's really got you fooled, honey." She looked at Mac with what could only be described as pity before turning and walking away. 

Mac stared after her, her thoughts turning. She didn't stir until long after the other woman had gone. Then she quietly gathered her things and headed for the showers.

#

George Laughton leaned back in his ergonomically correct chair, stretching hard enough to nearly knock himself over backwards. He straightened after a moment, working his jaw until it popped, then took another sip of the warm diet Coke sitting beside his keyboard. _Another day done. _The day's transmission of tape segments had just gone out, which meant he also had a fresh download sitting on his computer.

George didn't like being disconnected from the world. So, when he'd learned this cruise would be incommunicado except for the daily satellite transmission to the production studio, he'd made provisions for his own newsfeed to come back with the studio's acknowledgement. Since he'd designed the system on the studio's end, it was easy enough.

George took a final look around the AV room to make sure he was alone. Everyone else was off in the conference room, playing HALO. Geeks that they were, the technical staff had brought a total of four X-Boxes with them, which they had networked together. The HALO sessions often went long into the night. There was fierce competition between the staff and the singles, but only a couple of the marrieds had yet been enticed into playing with them. George smirked. Well, he supposed they probably had better things to do with their time.

George went through the process to uncompress his download, then sat back with a satisfied sigh to read. He wanted to see how the White Sox had played today.

When he came across the articles describing the undercover investigation taking place onboard the _Radiant Heart_, George sat bolt upright in his chair, nearly choking on a mouthful of soda. A Navy Commander and a Marine Corps Lieutenant Colonel? Really? And a fighter pilot, no less. He let out a low whistle of amazement. No wonder they were so odd sometimes.

George quickly scanned the rest of the news for anything else of import, then deleted the files as permanently as he knew how. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, contemplating the new information in light of his own job on board the _Radiant Heart_.

#

Harm looked up when the door to the cabin opened. He sat in one of the room's plush chairs, reading a book Frank had given him for Christmas several years earlier. It had been languishing in his "I'll read it someday" pile since then. He'd brought several such books with him on the cruise in the hopes of making some progress on the pile. Harm slowly closed the volume in his lap.

Mac stood in the doorway, fingers laced together in front of her and her gym bag slung over one shoulder. She shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. 

"Hi," she offered in a timid voice, not quite meeting his gaze.

Harm set the book aside, but didn't move to rise. "Hi."

She licked her lips. "Can I come in?"

"You live here, Mac."

She nodded, a flush rising in her cheeks. After a moment, she walked into the room. Bypassing him, she entered the bedroom. He heard the thump of her bag hitting the ground. Not knowing what to say, or if he should say anything at all, he stayed where he was.

Eventually she emerged, dressed for bed though it was barely dinnertime. Her long satin nightgown was the color of summer peaches and, though pretty, it was probably the most conservative one she had. Harm watched her with concern and a simmering frustration. Something was very obviously bothering her-- hurting her-- and so far she had excluded him to the point that he didn't have even the faintest clue what was going on.

She walked up to his chair, bare feet silent on the carpet. Harm looked up into her face. "Are you ready to tell me what's going on?" he asked with as much aplomb as he could muster.

Mac's hands closed into fists at her sides. She shook them open, then crossed her arms over her chest, closing her fingers around her biceps. She stared at the floor. "I had a talk with Carmen today." Her voice held a dull note that alarmed him. "Boothe hits her."

Harm pursed his lips. He wasn't terribly surprised by the revelation. He'd met others of the type before and Boothe certainly fit the profile. He could understand why Mac was upset. _Why take it out on me, though?_ He answered his own question a moment later. He was the closest target, both physically and emotionally. 

Harm stood, intending to take her in his arms for what looked like a much-needed hug. But as he moved toward her, Mac flinched, taking a half step back.

Harm froze. _Ignore it_, he instructed himself firmly, fighting the surge of hurt and anger her reaction generated. _Abuse doesn't just go away._

"Mac… Sarah, look at me." He kept his voice soft, non-threatening.

Mac raised her head obediently. Her eyes were wide and full of the shadows of old terrors.

"Are you afraid of me?" Harm asked. He thought he already knew the answer, but the question needed to be asked. He steeled himself as tears welled up in her eyes and began to trail down her cheeks. Nothing in the world felt worse than making Mac cry.

She bit her lip, her expression helpless. "I… shouldn't be."

Harm had to look away. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his dreams as they came crashing down on him. _Is that really what kind of man you think I am, Mac? How are we ever going to make this work?_

Mac's fingers touched his chest, just over his heart. "Harm, please don't be mad." Her voice broke. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Please--"

Harm's eyes snapped open. Capturing her wrist, he dragged her into his arms, wrapping her in a tight hug. "Stop it!" She stiffened with a gasp and Harm forced himself to speak more gently. "You _did_ mean it, and that's…" He buried his face against her neck, needing the comfort. "That's o.k., Mac." 

She was silent for a long time. Harm felt her relax by degrees against him, though her shaky breath didn't change.

"I thought I was past all this," she finally said, her voice muffled against his shirt.

Harm stroked her hair, uncertain how to respond. 

Mac turned her head and laid her cheek against his arm. "I thought… since I finally made a _good_ choice in men--" Harm smiled at her admission. "--that it wouldn't be an issue anymore."

Harm squeezed her tightly. "I wish it was that simple, too."

They stood together for a while in silence. Harm closed his eyes again and tried to lose himself in the feel of Mac's hair between his fingers and the coffee-and-cinnamon smell that was so much a part of her. He didn't want to think but his mind refused to obey, turning what he'd learned about their relationship over and over again, looking at it from every angle he could conceive of. It was an attribute that made him an excellent investigator, but it also contributed to his obsessive tendencies.

Eventually, he settled on one question that summed up all of his uncertainties. "What will it take for you not to be afraid of me, Mac? On any level?"

She stiffened, then slowly withdrew from his arms. She never raised her eyes to look at him.

"Mac?" he asked in concern as she turned away, folding her arms across her chest once again. Her shoulders began to shake.

"_Mac_." Harm hesitated to touch her, but then reached over to lay a hand on her shoulder. He could feel the rigid tension running through her body, testament to the vicious emotional battle taking place inside.

"I am so tired of being _damaged_." Mac's voice was a ragged, angry whisper. "When is enough, enough? When do I get a chance to really be happy without all this _garbage_ haunting me?" She threw her arms wide in a gesture of frustration as she turned to face him. "Haven't I worked hard enough? I cleaned up my act, got sober, put myself through law school, and made myself a _life_. A life I'm proud of. And now, I have even managed through some miracle to end up married to a man I not only love with all my heart, but admire and respect, too! So I ask you, when will it be enough?"

Harm stared into her dark, flashing eyes, both pleased and a little taken aback.

Mac bit her lip, her expression falling. "When do I get to leave the past behind?" The desperate plea in her voice tore at Harm's heart. 

Wishing he had a better answer to offer, he gave her a rueful smile. "You're asking me? The man who nearly got you killed… twice, no less… in Russia trying to resolve my own issues with the past?"

Mac cracked a smile. It was small, but genuine. "Only twice?"

Harm grinned, relieved by her reaction. "O.k. Maybe three times." He sobered. "But that still doesn't answer my question."

Mac sighed, brushing away a stray tear. "I don't know. It's not really you that scares me. I hope you realize that." 

Harm nodded. He did-- intellectually, at least. 

She went on, "It's the… the possibility, I guess… that, despite everything I know to be true about you and about our relationship, that _somehow_ I'm still going to end up being hurt again. And I'm not going to be able to do anything about it. Again. I don't know how to make that go away."

"Trying to clobber me in the sparring ring isn't going to help."

She flashed him a sheepish look. "Sorry."

Harm closed the distance between them. He caught Mac beneath the elbows, drawing her close without-- hopefully-- making her feel trapped. He stared into her chocolate eyes. "Listen to me, Mac. I will _never _deliberately hurt you."

She sighed and laid her hands on his chest, palms flat. "I know. I trust you with my life."

Dismay hit him like a blow. "It's your heart I want." 

Mac's breath caught, her eyes filling with tears. "It's yours." She leaned into him, pressing her forehead against his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. "As much as I know how to give it, it's yours."

"What if that's not enough?" Harm didn't know whether to be angry, hurt, or just afraid. "You're my wife, Mac. That's supposed to mean we love each other with all our hearts, forever."

For a moment, Mac didn't answer. He could feel her gathering herself. 

She took a step back and looked up at him, her expression unreadable. "You know, there's a bridge in Australia where they once wrote 'Eternity' in lights." 

Harm stared at her in horror.

Mac took a deep breath, her fingers closing and unclosing at her sides. "When you told me that, I thought it was an evasion… maybe even a taunt." She shook her head. "I didn't realize until just recently that you were making me a promise--" A smile flickered across her face. "--in your own oblique way. That it would be Eternity for us, eventually, even though you were saying no right then." 

She straightened her shoulders, another swift smile crossing her face. "So now I have to ask you to accept the same promise, though hopefully with a little less misunderstanding." She reached for him, the motion hesitant. "The answer is yes, I will love you with all my heart, forever… even if right now I'm not quite sure how to get there."

It took Harm a moment to absorb what she'd said. Then he hugged her. Hard. 

Mac hugged him back. "I really do love you."

He kissed her forehead, lips, throat. "I know."

Mac's fingers knotted in his hair as she pulled his face toward hers. Her kiss was passionate and sweet and filled with promises.

Harm answered her in kind, his mind's eye filled with an image that had touched him deeply from the moment he saw it: A far-spanning arch, bridging between two distant places, and the word 'Eternity' inscribed in lights across it.


	22. [22]

Chapter 22

A.J. looked up in surprise as Lieutenant Roberts blew into his office, a sheaf of papers clutched in one hand. The young man's face was suffused with anger, something the Admiral rarely saw. 

"What is it, Lieutenant?" A.J. asked as Bud came to attention in front of the desk.

"Ariel's guilty, sir, and Steiner knows it!" The words came out in a rush. Bud thrust the papers at A.J. 

A.J. took the pile curiously, for the moment willing to overlook the breach of decorum, and scanned the top document.

"Sir, the one thing we didn't have was a motive for Ariel. Why would he risk felony charges just to get the Antonys out of the running?" Bud gestured broadly as he spoke, his motions as agitated as his voice. He pointed to the stack of papers in A.J.'s hands. "The answer's right there, sir. The Antonys were one of the last two couples on the ship, with only three days left in the cruise. Ariel's contract says he gets a rather sizeable bonus--" Bud's eyebrows arched in sarcastic emphasis, "--if there is one clear winner to the competition. Steiner had to know about it."

"Not necessarily," A.J. countered absently as he read. He found the details of Ariel's bonus and pursed his lips in a silent whistle. "Two million dollars?" He looked up at Bud. "That's quite a motive."

"Yes, sir. At Commander Rabb's request, I've been going through the testimonies from the reservists and Mrs. Antony about the notes they exchanged. It appears there was intent, at least, to engage in… well, whatever… between the three of them, but not until after the cruise ended. Mrs. Antony denies making the invitation that led to the incident, and claims she doesn't remember how she got to the stateroom where it took place. That's the only exchange between herself and the reservists that doesn't check out from both sides."

A.J. leaned back in his chair. "So you think Mr. Ariel simply took advantage of a pre-existing situation to get the Antonys out of the competition and thereby securing a two million dollar bonus for himself?"

"Yes, sir. He probably didn't think Mrs. Antony would bring rape charges, all things considered." Bud paused. "Heck, sir. He might not even have thought it _was_ rape, if he knew about the plans they had."

"If she was drugged, then in wasn't consensual," A.J. reminded him.

Bud gave him an affronted look. "I didn't say I _agreed_, sir. Just pointing out that it's possible Ariel might not have recognized the crime he was committing."

A.J. sighed and laid the papers on his desk. "Well, the circumstantial evidence against Ariel is pretty compelling, but that's all it is-- circumstantial. We don't have anything but the various parties' word about what happened."

"As it stands now, do you think the reservists would be convicted, sir?" Bud asked.

A.J. shrugged. "It's pretty much a toss up. It would depend on whose story the jury believed." He laced his fingers together on the desk in front of him. "The problem is, whether they're convicted or not, the Navy is going to be damaged. Unless Ariel can be proven beyond any shadow of doubt to have orchestrated the entire incident, and the two reservists therefore exonerated of any malicious intent-- the Navy's reputation will still suffer."

"Do you think Steiner knows the truth, sir?" This time Bud's expression was troubled.

A.J. sighed. "Probably. Whether he was involved in the plot…" He met the lieutenant's gaze. "Does Steiner have a clause like this in his contract, too?"

Bud shook his head, looking disappointed. "No, sir. That was the first thing I checked. He does get a bonus, but it's based on a combination of net proceeds and the show's viewership."

A.J. digested that, finding himself more concerned rather than less. "Keep working on it, lieutenant. Let me know what you find out."

"Yes, sir."

A.J. handed the stack papers representing Tony Ariel's contract with the studio back to Bud. "Very well. Dismissed." 

As Bud left, A.J. turned to stare out the window. Maybe it was time to have a talk with Daniel Steiner.

#

Mac sat bolt upright with a cry, her nightmare shattering. One moment she was fending off heavy hands that shoved her backward, pinning her with their weight, and the next she was in her own bed with sunlight streaming cheerfully through the windows. Disoriented, she looked around, trying to regain her bearings. Her gaze fastened almost immediately on Harm, who watched her with deep but wary concern from his own side of the bed. 

"Mac?" He prudently didn't try to touch her.

_Smart man._ Mac had to smile at the wayward thought, the last vestiges of her dream fear slipping away. Taking a deep breath, she nodded.

"I was having a nightmare."

Harm's eyebrows arched eloquently. "Some nightmare." Now he did reach for her and Mac was more than happy to crawl into his arms. She laid her cheek against his chest.

"A man attacked me…" She shook her head. "You know how it is in dreams when you ought to be able to fight or run or scream, but you can't make your body work?"

Harm nodded. "I've had a few of those."

"It was like that. I knew he was going to hurt me, but I have no idea how or why or even who he was." She sighed. "It was strange."

"You think it has anything to do with how upset you were yesterday? About Boothe and Carmen, and… everything?"

Mac's lips twisted in a sour smile. "Delicately put, counselor." She looked up into her husband's face. "You don't have to tiptoe around the subject, Harm. It's hard and it hurts, but it's something I have to deal with."

Harm ran his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head. "_We_ have to deal with. You're not alone any more, Mac." His solemn gaze bored into hers.

Mac smiled. "We," she repeated, accepting the admonishment. She sighed. "And on that subject, what are _we_ going to do about Boothe?"

Harm shrugged. "Other than offering Carmen the services of two very good lawyers, I'm not sure what we _can_ do. She has to be willing to stand up to him before the law can help her." He shifted to a more comfortable position. "There's a problem with us getting involved, though."

_Only one?_ Mac didn't voice the thought. The room cameras were on. "I'll admit there's a conflict of interest--"

"A million of them, don't you mean?" Harm grinned at her.

Mac rolled her eyes. Neither of them cared in the least about the prize-- even if they "won", they wouldn't be able to keep it. "I can't just sit by and not at least _try_ to help. No woman deserves to live in that situation."

"I wasn't advocating doing nothing, Mac." Harm's hands were warm against the exposed skin of her back. "We just have to be careful what we say. There are some pretty big ethical pitfalls that could hurt Carmen as well as us. Plus, we don't know for sure that Boothe is guilty."

Mac tensed. "It was in her eyes, Harm."

"Maybe," he conceded. "And maybe she made it up. The longer we stay on this boat, the crazier people seem to get. It's like all of the normal rules of proper societal behavior have been suspended here and people are beginning to test the waters-- if you'll excuse the pun-- to see how far they can go without repercussions."

Mac mulled that for a moment. He had a point, as much as she hated to admit it. Carmen probably had an ulterior motive, though whether it was to further her chances of winning or was a plea for help escaping an abusive relationship, Mac couldn't guess.

Mac sighed. "I'll talk to her. Maybe Boothe was stupid enough to do something on the cruise. Then we'd have proof."

#

"Have a seat, Mr. Steiner." A.J. speared the producer with one of his sharper stares as the other man walked in.

Steiner raised an eyebrow as he settled in one of the chairs fronting A.J.'s broad desk. "Something on your mind, Admiral?"

A.J. folded his hands in front of him. "As a matter of fact, there is. Tell me about the bonus the network will be paying you based on the success of the show."

Ariel's expression never changed, but something wary sprang to life in his eyes. He smiled. "It's a percentage bonus, based on _Temptation Cruise II_'s net proceeds and a fairly complex combination of our Nielson ratings and viewership numbers from the network."

A.J. kept his own expression to one of polite interest, though an ex-SEAL Admiral's polite interest was a little more intense than most people's. "How much did you get for the original _Temptation Cruise_?"

Steiner didn't look very comfortable in his chair. "That's a matter of public record, Admiral."

A.J. flashed him a hard smile. "Spare me the effort of looking it up."

Steiner sighed. "4.2 million."

"And how much are you likely to make off the current show? In addition to your negotiated hourly rate, that is."

Steiner gave him an ingratiating smile. "I have no idea. The show's only halfway through. I don't have good numbers to use." He spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

A.J. silently ground his teeth, careful to keep his expression neutral. "Will it be more than the first _Temptation Cruise_, do you think? Or less? Surely you know that much."

Steiner uttered another sigh. "Oh, more, most definitely. Those investigators of yours have gone and _made_ my show. Which I resent, by the way. If it works, I want to be able to take credit for it." He shrugged. "Who would've thought adding a _Cops_ element would be so successful? Here we've gone and re-invented reality television, and I can't even claim the idea as my own." He ran a hand through his lanky hair, seeming irritated.

A.J. studied his guest. He suspected he was being carefully stonewalled, and didn't much care for it. "How about Tony Ariel? What will his bonus be like this time around?"

The wary expression came back to Steiner's eyes. "I'm not privy to the details of Tony's contract. It's probably the same as last time, though. Two million."

"And I suppose you're going to tell me you don't know the conditions under which Mr. Ariel receives his bonus."

A.J. saw the sudden flash of recognition on Steiner's face before the other man buried it. "No."

"You realize that if I can prove you did, you might be charged with conspiracy."

"Conspiracy to what? Rape? I absolutely did not have anything to do with encouraging those two men to hurt Jessica Antony. I think it's abhorrent." Steiner glared at him.

A.J. was surprised to hear a small ring of truth in his words. Did the man actually have some moral standards, albeit low ones?

"But you can't deny that having one clear winner to the competition is a good thing for you, in terms of your success with the show."

Steiner gave him a credibly puzzled look. "Of course not. But what does that have to do with anything?"

A.J. kept his disappointment to himself. It was too much to hope for to catch Steiner operating on information he claimed not to possess. Still, it had been worth a try.

"Did you ever encourage Mr. Ariel to make sure there was only one couple left by the end of the cruise?"

Steiner gave him an appraising look. "Ecourage? Of course. That was the stated goal of the production team. Tony and his people were supposed to do their best to see to it that all of the couples were given every possible opportunity to… give in to temptation, let's say. There was no way to be certain there'd only be one couple left by the end of the six weeks, but what would be the point of making a reality show if everyone knew ahead of time how it would end? As the number of couples in the competition dwindled, the heat on each of them obviously increased, so it seemed reasonable to expect we'd be down to one by the end. To be honest, I was a lot more concerned that the competition might end early and leave us unable to fill all our time slots."

"So you never told Ariel to make sure there was a clear winner?"

Steiner met A.J.'s gaze. "No, I did not."

A.J. switched subjects. "What have you been telling him this time around?"

Steiner cocked his head. "About?"

"My officers, in particular. Are you certain their identities are being kept confidential?"

Steiner nodded. "Yes." He leaned back in his chair, resting one elbow on the back. "And given how popular the Rabbs have become, it hasn't been easy. We have to do everything twice-- once with real information for ourselves and the network, and once for Ariel with the Rabbs popularity scrubbed from the data." Steiner's fingers drummed on the hard wood of his chair. "Assuming Ariel is fixing the results, we want to make sure your people become his target, which they won't be if they're the clear favorites."

A.J. studied Steiner as understanding dawned. "You want him to be guilty."

Steiner flashed him a wolfish grin. "Don't you? The Navy's getting great press out of this."

A.J. forced himself to stay calm. "_Is_ he guilty, Mr. Steiner?"

Steiner's expression never wavered. "I guess we'll find out, won't we?"


	23. [23]

Chapter 23

Harm leaned casually against the light bamboo structure that passed as a bar, sipping from his Coke. The sweating glass felt wonderfully cool against his fingers. He resisted the temptation to press the glass against his cheek. The midday sun had become downright brutal, and even the light breeze gusting across his face was hot. The striped umbrella shading the two men gave little relief.

Beside Harm, Jeb chatted with a couple of young women who worked on the ship, telling them about some college event with the naïve enthusiasm of youth. Harm kept his amusement to himself with an effort of will. The two girls were very patently hanging on his every word, but Jeb was too engrossed in his story to notice. He obviously had no idea what the girls were thinking about him, nor what he could do with the situation-- if he chose.

_I don't think I was ever that innocent_, Harm thought with a small pang of regret. His own nature and the months he'd spent in Southeast Asia had seen to that. Then Harm grinned into his drink as the memories surfaced. His "What I Did on my Summer Vacation" essay the next year had nearly given his English teacher a heart attack.

Raising his gaze, he swept the wide expanse of deck visible from his position, looking for Boothe. Mac had managed to talk all of the remaining married women into a few hours at the spa-- something about facials and manicures and whatever the heck a Vichy shower was-- in the hopes of getting some more information from Carmen. Harm was supposed to take the opportunity to do the same with Boothe, but so far he'd been unable to find him.

His survey was interrupted by a new presence at his elbow. 

"Hi, Harm!" Nikki Upton grabbed his arm in a hug, her slender body momentarily pressed against his side. She let go before he could react, stepping back to look up at him. A playful smile lit her face.

"Guess what?"

Harm watched her warily from behind a polite smile. "What?"

She bounced on the balls of her feet, clearly excited. "_I_ won the Singles' Challenge this morning, so that means _we_ get to spend the day together tomorrow." The winner of the Singles' Challenge got to choose their companion for the next outing. She tapped him lightly on the chest. "And you're going to take me flying. I've already worked it out with Mr. Ariel."

Harm blinked, taken aback. "Sounds like fun," he managed after a moment. The idea of going flying sounded like a _lot_ of fun, actually. Too bad the company wouldn't be more enjoyable.

Jeb turned at the mention of flying. He grinned at Harm. "Lucky dog." His gaze shifted to Nikki. "What kind of airplane is it?"

She shrugged dismissively. "Oh, I don't know. It has two wings, though."

Harm coughed lightly. "Would that be two wings stacked, or one on each side of the airplane?"

Jeb made a choking noise, which sounded suspiciously like smothered laughter. Harm slapped him charitably on the back until he'd regained control.

Nikki watched them with a frown. "Two wings on top of each other… like the Red Baron." She seemed to have figured out that the men were laughing at her.

Harm held on to his composure by a thread. "Ah. A biplane. That'll be fun."

Nikki rallied gamely. "Well, it's a two-seater. I do know that." She winked at him.

"Have you ever been flying in a small airplane?" Harm asked.

She shook her head, her smile reappearing as if by magic. "No, but it sounds like a trip. I'm sure I'll have a great time." There was a glint of challenge in her gaze.

Harm chuckled despite himself. "Don't be too sure about that. I'm a qualified aerobatic pilot."

Nikki gave him a diffident stare, one eyebrow cocked. "And?"

Out of his peripheral vision, Harm saw Jeb bite his lip, his blue eyes dancing.

Harm couldn't resist the opportunity. He gave Nikki a glimpse of his most dangerous smile. "_And…_ unless you have an extraordinarily strong stomach, you're only going to have a 'great time' if I decide to be nice."

The well-manicured eyebrow hiked another notch. "Oh, really. Care to place a wager on that?" She leaned toward him.

Harm echoed her. In the back of his mind, he realized he was getting into dangerous territory. Still, he'd never been one to back down from a challenge. 

"What did you have in mind?" he asked Nikki without breaking eye contact. 

She grinned invitingly. "How 'bout the loser gives the winner a kiss."

Harm laughed outright. "No." He straightened, giving Nikki a congratulatory bow. "But nice try." 

She just shrugged, utterly unrepentant. Harm nodded to Jeb as he turned away.

"See you tomorrow," Nikki called after him as he walked away.

#

"Oh, wow. I could get used to this." Mac exhaled blissfully. She'd been pretty doubtful when Carmen suggested the warm cucumber wrap, but now, with steaming towels wrapped around her body and her skin tingling from the smelly concoction the masseuse had smeared on her beforehand, she was glad she had.

Carmen chuckled, sounding smug. "Told ya."

None of the other women had been willing to join them, for which Mac was grateful. Of course, she wouldn't have done it either except for wanting to talk privately with Carmen. She might have to make a habit of it from now on, though. Mac smiled to herself. Harm would be thrilled she'd finally found a reason to like cucumbers.

The silence stretched comfortably. Mac tried to stay focused on her objective, though it was hard in the sultry environment of the spa. Plus, she didn't know how to bring up the subject of Boothe's abuse without sounding like she was trying to undermine her fellow contestant's chances of winning.

Finally, Mac sighed. "Carmen, can I ask you something personal?" She directed the question toward the ceiling, unable to turn her head for fear of disturbing the hot towels that covered everything but her mouth and nose.

Carmen's response was wary. "Sure."

"Do you love Boothe?"

Carmen snorted. "Honey, there's no such thing."

Mac sighed. She'd expected something like that. "Well, I guess for most of my life I would've agreed with you."

"Yeah, right. Until your knight in shining armor came along."

Mac chuckled. The armor was gunmetal gray rather than shining, and the trusty steed a Tomcat, but it wasn't a bad description. "Yep. Pretty much," she agreed.

Carmen was silent for several moments. "I bet you know lots of nice men." Her voice was full of rancor.

Mac pursed her lips, considering her reply. She wished she knew what had happened to Carmen to make her so bitter. She would have a much better idea how to respond. Finally, she decided just to be honest and see what happened.

"I work with a few," she agreed cautiously, "but when it comes to relationships I seem to have really, really poor taste." She grinned, realizing what she'd said. "Not counting Harm, of course. He's definitely the exception to that rule."

She got another snort in reply. "I hate ta tell ya this, but nobody's that good." Carmen's tone turned sisterly. "Don't let him break your heart."

Mac sucked in her breath. It would be so easy to buy into Carmen's mindset. 

"He won't."

Carmen laughed mockingly. "Yeah. You just keep tellin' yourself that. You'll see."

Mac closed her hands into fists, fighting for calm. "I'm a good attorney, Carmen. If you need representation against Boothe, I can help."

"What, like in a divorce?"

"Yes. You don't have to let him hurt you."

Carmen's voice quieted. "Well, now, there you're wrong." There was a reflective quality to her words that Mac hadn't heard before.

"About what?" she asked, just as quietly.

Carmen sighed. "I signed a prenup."

"A prenuptial agreement?"

"Yeah." The bitter tang returned to her words. "I came into the marriage with nothin' an' if I leave it'll be the same way. I don't plan on leavin', though."

Mac chewed on her lip. "Isn't there anyplace else you could go? Any family? Friends?"

"No." A pause. "What about you? Who'd you go to?"

Mac smiled sadly at the memory. "My uncle. He was the one who straightened me out in the first place. He was always there to get me back on the right track."

"He approve of your Prince Charming?"

Mac smiled again. "Yes. Harm impressed him, and he's not an easy man to impress." It had been Uncle Matt's high regard that had first prompted Mac to look beyond the arrogant, flyboy façade for the real man hidden within her new partner. Otherwise, she might never have taken him seriously.

"What about you, Carmen? Don't you have _anybody_?"

"Just Boothe."

Mac sighed, frustrated. She was getting nowhere. "Well, if you ever change your mind, you can call me. O.k.?"

Carmen's only response was a grunt.

#

"I heard a vicious rumor you're going flying with Nikki Upton tomorrow." Mac stood in front of the bathroom mirror, putting the finishing touches on her hair. Her voice floated out to Harm, who stopped dead at the harsh note underlying her words.

He paused, then went back to tying his bow tie. The evening's dinner was a formal event.

"Unfortunately, it's true as far as I know," he answered when he had his reaction under control.

"Unfortunately?" Mac stuck her head around the doorjamb, one eyebrow arched in disbelief.

Harm kept his tone light. "Well, not the flying part. Just the Nikki Upton part."

Mac's expression softened minutely. "She has a crush on you, you know." Straightening, she emerged from the bathroom and walked toward Harm. Her evening gown, a slinky affair of burnished gold, clung to every curve. Harm watched her appreciatively, enjoying the fact that he didn't have to hide his interest and could stare unabashedly at this gorgeous creature without the least bit of guilt.

"Harm?" Mac stopped in front of him, her voice filled with amusement.

"Hmmm?" He deliberately didn't raise his gaze to her face. 

She chuckled, tilting her shoulders to give him a better view. "You're incorrigible." She reached up to finish tying his tie.

Harm caught her gaze and smiled one of his famous, melt-her-into-a-puddle smiles. "That's why you love me."

"Uh huh." Her tone said she knew exactly what he was doing. She finished with his tie, sliding her hands down the front of his shirt before hooking them in the waistband of his pants. "Don't avoid the subject." 

"Of what? Nikki Upton?" Harm let his hands come to rest on Mac's hips. The thin material of her dress scrunched beneath his fingers. "It's not a subject worthy of much attention."

Mac's expression turned serious. "I just don't like the idea of you flying with her."

Harm tried not to let his exasperation show. "Why? What do you think's going to happen?"

She dropped her gaze. "Well, you know how those pilots are." In contrast to her expression, her tone remained playful.

Harm tensed. "That's not fair, Mac."

She sighed and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I know. It's not. But it's still how I feel." She turned away, crossing her arms in front of her.

Harm closed his eyes for a moment, fighting with himself. This was going to turn into a fight. He could feel it. "What is it about her that makes you feel so threatened?"

Mac shrugged. "Oh, I don't know." Sarcasm tainted her words. "She's young, pretty… blond." The look she flashed him over her shoulder was almost apologetic.

Harm stared to laugh. "You have got to be kidding."

Mac whirled. "Don't patronize me."

Harm sobered abruptly. "Patronizeyou?" He stared incredulously at her. "You're accusing me of wanting to sleep with this girl because of her _hair color_, and I'm patronizing _you_?"

Mac paused and heaved a huge, grating sigh. "I'm not accusing you of anything." Her gaze narrowed at his disbelieving look. "Really, I'm not. Look, this is Woman 101, or at least Mac 101, o.k.? Yes, I have irrational fears about you and other women. I have irrational fears about you dying every time you get in an airplane, too." She spread her hands helplessly. "I have lots of irrational fears, and even some legitimate ones. Fear is part of being a woman. Men just don't seem to understand that." 

She drew a deep breath. "When I get scared all I really want is for you to hug me and say, 'Honey, I love you and I'm never going to leave you. You don't have to worry because everything is going to be all right.'." 

Harm stared at her in silence as he tried to process what she'd said. Women didn't make any sense at all, particularly this one. This was Mac-- fiercely independent, Marine, aggressive, skilled at hand-to-hand combat and thoroughly weapons qualified. And she wanted a platitude?

"That's it?"

Mac gave him a crooked smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Most of the time."

"It seems… too simple." He said that last cautiously, uncertain how she might react.

She snorted. "It's just reassurance, Harm. It's not supposed to be all that difficult."

Harm stared at her. "I don't get it," he finally admitted.

Mac threw her arms up in the air. "What's to get?" She gave him a look filled with desperation. "I told you what I need. I don't know how to be any clearer."

"Just repeat those words verbatim, and everything will suddenly be o.k.?" His voice echoed his doubt.

Mac's hands clenched at her sides, her dark eyes snapping in frustration. "Geez! Any variation on the theme will do!"

"'Honey' and all?"

Mac rolled her eyes. "O.k. Maybe not 'Honey', per se. You know what I mean." She met his gaze. "Are you messing with me?"

Harm shrugged, smiling. "A little."

"Well, don't. It's not funny." He was shocked by how much hurt suddenly shone from her eyes. 

Shaking himself into motion, Harm closed the distance between them and laid a hand on either of her shoulders. She said it was what she wanted…

Harm stared into her eyes. "Honey, I love you and I'm never going to leave you." He felt a little silly saying it. Shouldn't this be obvious? "You don't have to worry because everything's going to be all right."

In an instant, Mac's expression cleared. She slipped into his arms, burrowing against his chest and hugging him tightly. She sighed, sounding both happy and relieved. "Thank you."

Utterly mystified, Harm hugged her back. _I do not understand women_. "You're welcome." 

He waited a few minutes before speaking again. "…uh, can we safely go back to the blond part now?"

Mac tensed, withdrawing a half step from his embrace. "Sure." Her mouth twisted in a sour smile. "I can sum that one up for you with one word."

"Renee?"

Her gaze darted to his, then away. "Yep."

"Why?"

Mac sighed. Looking down, she toyed with her skirt, smoothing imaginary wrinkles with her fingers. "I tried so hard to hate her. I really did. I wanted her to be the Evil Video Princess so I could justify wanting to rip her throat out."

Harm stared at her, fighting a smile. "The 'Evil Video Princess'?"

"Don't laugh."

He couldn't help it. He started to chuckle. Mac flashed him a genuine smile before growing serious again. "But, you know what? I couldn't. She's a pretty decent person and she tried very hard to be my friend despite all the… complications. And she was good for you. I think that's what I hated most about her."

Somewhat surprised by the assessment, Harm reached over to catch Mac's hand. "But not nearly as good for me as you are," he told her. 

Mac smiled shyly, the expression lighting her entire face. "Well, yeah," she agreed. 

Harm took that for an invitation and pulled her close. He brought her hand to his mouth, kissed the inside of her wrist. Mac gasped softly. Desire turned her eyes the color of melted chocolate. "How do you do that to me?"

Harm grinned. "C'mere and I'll show you."

Mac laughed deep in her throat. "We're already dressed for dinner." But her body was soft and pliant in his arms, the protest entirely rhetorical. 


	24. [24]

Chapter 24

"What time is it?" Harm asked his wife as he snuggled a little closer to her beneath the covers. With the drapes in their room drawn, the rosy gray of early morning barely penetrated the darkness around them, but Harm didn't need his eyes. Married-- _lovers_-- for only a shade over three weeks now, he already had the feel of her memorized: the perfect way she fit against him, the softness of her skin, the wonderfully smooth flare of her hip as he ran his hand along her waist.

She chuckled sleepily, undoubtedly aware of the direction of his thoughts. "It's… 5:04." He heard the pause as she translated to civilian time.

Harm sighed. "I guess I'd better get going, then." Reluctantly, he slipped out of bed and into the clothes he'd left out. It was time to do a little investigating. He heard Mac sit up behind him in a rustle of sheets. She had her own job to do.

"Stay out of trouble," she said softly, her voice full of a smile he couldn't see in the dim light.

"You know me," he answered with a grin of his own.

"That's what worries me."

Chuckling, Harm left. He closed the door of the stateroom quietly behind him, then set off down the hallway. There was no way to avoid the cameras that coated the ship, so the only option was misdirection.

#

George Laughton stared at the complex tangle of wiring in front of him, thoroughly intrigued. He stood in one of the wiring closets, staring at the fiber backbone that connected the two main computing networks onboard the _Radiant Heart_. One network controlled the vast multitude of cameras filling the ship, the other stored the data. George had been checking the layout of the fiber against the documented specification, and had found a few discrepancies. He crouched in the narrow confines of the closet, flashlight gripped between his teeth as he copied down the actual configuration. Tracing the connections back to their origins would tell him whether the changes were mistakes, work-arounds, or something else.

"Ahem."

George started at the sound of a man clearing his throat. He whipped around in guilty surprise, banging his head on the unyielding metal edge of the wiring cabinet.

"_Ow._" 

Harmon Rabb winced sympathetically. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." The tall lawyer stood a few feet behind him, arms crossed as he stared at George in a mixture of humor and carefully veiled interest. His keen gaze flicked to the tangle of wiring then back to George's face.

George stared back, his throat suddenly dry. _Does he know?_ was the first thought that passed through his mind. _Would that be a bad thing?_ was the second.Pushing the questions away, he removed the flashlight from his mouth.

"Contestants aren't really supposed to be in this area," he told Rabb as he gingerly rubbed his scalp.

The other man waved the protest away with a casual wave and a guileless grin. "I need to ask someone from the technical staff some questions."

George felt a stab of alarm, but tried to keep it off his face. The Navy investigator wasn't going to give himself away, was he? George rose to his feet.

"Well, I'm not exactly the resident expert, as witnessed by the fact that I'm working the graveyard shift, but I know a few things." He extended his hand in what he hoped was a sincerely friendly manner. "George Laughton."

"Harm Rabb." Rabb shook his hand.

"I'm not sure what I can tell you," George continued. "I'm not supposed to give out information to any of the contestants that might influence the competition." He waved toward the camera mounted in one corner of the room. "It's all recorded, so don't expect me to make an exception." 

Rabb chuckled, apparently not put off by the brusque statement. "No problem. I'll ask my question, and you can decide whether or not it's information you can give me."

George wondered if he looked as wary as he felt. "All right." He didn't like having Rabb asking him questions. It jeopardized his own job aboard the ship, drawing attention to him when he would much rather have remained unnoticed.

Rabb clasped his hands behind his back, seeming to consider his words before he spoke. "Do you see everything that's recorded on this ship?"

George couldn't help but snort in mild contempt. "Are you kidding? We work three shifts with four guys on the first two, and one on the graveyard. I see maybe a quarter of the action shots."

"Action shots?"

George nodded. He felt pretty safe explaining a few technical details. "Yeah. The recording is all digital, so any time there's a static scene, the recording gets compressed. There's no sense in taking up all that memory to record hours and hours of an empty hallway. Everything that's left is called an 'action shot'. It just means something's happening."

The lawyer absorbed the explanation. "But you would hear about anything interesting, right? Even if it wasn't on your shift?"

George cocked his head, deciding to push a bit. "Like you betting with Nikki Upton for a kiss?"

Rabb looked affronted. "Hey, I said no to that." His gaze narrowed. "But I'll take that to mean you do."

George shrugged. "Sure." He grinned at Rabb. "We poor working stiffs have gotta do something for entertainment."

Rabb chuckled, but his humor didn't last. The blue eyes grew somber. "What about something that's not so entertaining?"

George paused. "What do you mean?" What was Rabb after?

"Violent." The other man pinned him with an expectant gaze.

__

Phew. Ttalks like a lawyer and stares like a fighter pilot. Some combination. George debated his response. He was pretty sure he understood, but it wasn't information he could give out without risking the wrath of some important people in the television business. "Violent? Like how?" Best to play dumb.

Rabb's expression gave away very little. "Like domestic violence."

"Oh." Immediately, George knew he'd given himself away. Rabb's expression sharpened, the intense, hawk-like gaze skewering him where he stood. _Now what?_ The idea that jumped to mind startled him. But he'd always had a secret desire to play _Mission: Impossible_.

Very slowly, George gave a discrete nod, the motion nearly invisible. "No, nothing like that." He forced a smile. "I mean, you and your wife are probably the most violent contestants we have."

Rabb chuckled, though the expression didn't quite reach his eyes. "All in good fun."

They stared at each other in silence for an awkward moment. The question in Rabb's gaze begged an answer.

"Well, sorry I couldn't be much help." George said.

Rabb shrugged, another of those guileless smiles appearing on his face. "No problem. Sorry I interrupted… whatever you're doing."

George shook his head. "Just a little minor troubleshooting. It gets pretty boring around here in the middle of the night, especially once all the partiers have given up or passed out."

Rabb raised an eyebrow. "Things get pretty wild?"

George shrugged. "Oh, sometimes. Unlimited free booze, what do you expect?" 

"Sounds like you're not into the party scene."

"Not every night." George smiled. "When I need to de-stress, I usually join in on the HALO competition. Shooting things helps me relax more than alcohol."

Rabb gave him a confused, slightly alarmed look. "HALO?"

George nodded. "Yeah, it's a new game. Just came out on the market a few months ago. It's a first-person combat sim, essentially. It has a plot, though. And killer graphics."

Rabb's expression didn't change. 

"It's a video game," George told him.

The lawyer's confusion deepened. "What, like Nintendo?"

George chuckled. "In the way a paper airplane is like the Space Shuttle, sure." He looked at Rabb. "I take it you've never played?"

"I don't even own a television."

"Oh, well you're really missing out, man. You should come join us sometime." George tried to put some extra emphasis in his gaze. "I bet you'd have a blast." He watched Rabb, hoping he'd gotten the hint.

Rabb looked at him doubtfully. Then he shrugged. "Sure, I guess. When and where?"

George told him the particulars with a sense of excitement. _Ethan Hunt eat your heart out_. This cruise was about to get much more interesting.

#

Mac waited for Tiner to transfer her to the Admiral with a sense of trepidation. She'd called to talk to Bud, who often came in that early in order to leave by mid-afternoon, but had been redirected to the Admiral. She couldn't help but wonder if something had gone wrong.

"Colonel Rabb, good morning." The Admiral's voice was somehow warm and gruff at the same time.

Mac paused, startled to hear herself addressed as "Rabb" by her commanding officer. _Wow. It's really real, isn't it?_

"Good morning, sir," she managed.

The Admiral obviously heard her hesitation. "Everything o.k. there, Mac?" 

Mac nodded. "Yes, sir. It's just strange to hear you call me that." She paused. "Nice, but strange."

As was his usual practice, the Admiral didn't extend the personal interaction. "I'm sure you'll get used to it. Now, down to business."

"Yes, sir. I was calling Bud to see what he'd gotten so far on the items Commander Rabb asked him to look into."

"Lieutenant Roberts is here with me, Colonel. We've discovered some information you and your husband will undoubtedly find interesting. Lieutenant?"

Bud's voice came on the line. "Good morning, ma'am."

"'Morning, Bud." Mac smiled as she imagined Bud's round, cheerful face.

"Commander Rabb asked me to compare Mrs. Antony's account of the notes she sent with the Naval reservists' to see what kinds of discrepancies I could find. It turns out that the only one is the last note-- the one Mrs. Antony supposedly sent inviting Mr. Brown and Mr. Rossman to meet her. She denies sending the invitation. However, the rest of their stories coincide."

"So they were definitely involved, or planning to be." Mac found that fact disappointing, though not very surprising. "That's convenient."

"For Mr. Ariel, anyway," Bud agreed.

"Now here's where it gets interesting, Colonel." The Admiral took over. "We found a clause in Tony Ariel's contract for the original show, awarding him a two million dollar bonus if there ended up being only one couple left at the end of the cruise."

Mac digested the new information. "That sounds like a motive, sir."

"Glad the weeks in the sun haven't addled your brain too badly, Colonel."

Mac ignored the comment, the only safe course in such instances. "What about the recording quality? Do we have any new information there?"

"Some, Colonel," Bud assured her. "The poor quality appears to be due to some kind of interference, probably from an improperly grounded wire in the camera. The degradation shows up from time to time on that camera, but not very frequently. The member of the technical crew I talked to said they asked about trying to repair it, but since it was in an empty cabin and since the problem didn't happen very often, Ariel decided not to."

"_Ariel_ decided not to?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"The pile of circumstantial evidence just keeps getting higher."

"Yes, ma'am."

Mac ran a hand through her hair. "So he knew about the camera's problem. Is there any way he could know _when_ the picture would go bad?"

Bud sounded dubious. "Only if he caused the problem with the camera in the first place and had a way of controlling it."

"Is this the only camera that had problems, Bud?" Ariel couldn't have been that stupid, could he?

"No, ma'am. Several others had intermittent problems. The worst ones were replaced during the course of the cruise, but there were a total of three that Ariel told the technical staff not to bother with."

"Where were they?" 

Mac tried to envision the layout of the ship as Bud read off the room numbers. All three, she thought, were unoccupied cabins in widely separated locations. 

Another thought occurred to her. "What about the hallways? Even if the room camera had problems, the hall cameras were fine. Can't we see who came and went, and when?"

"Yes, ma'am." Bud sounded disappointed, like she'd beaten him to the punch. "We think we've got that sequence all put together. Jessica Antony entered the room alone. The Naval reservists are also seen approaching the room, about forty minutes later. They left after about an hour. Mrs. Antony remained in the room until the host and his bailiffs arrived to escort her to the Tribunal." The Tribunal was the mock court in which the evidence of indiscretions was disclosed and couples officially disqualified from the competition. "She seemed somewhat disoriented at that point, but didn't protest any of the charges."

"So how did Ariel lure Jessica Antony to the cabin?" Mac toyed with the ends of the belt on her robe as she tried to put the events in order.

"Unfortunately," Bud drawled the word, warning Mac of impending bad news. "It doesn't appear that he did. Mrs. Antony claims she doesn't know how she got to the stateroom, but the video definitely shows her arriving alone and of her own volition."

Mac frowned. "Something doesn't add up."

"Colonel?" That was the Admiral.

"Sir, the reservists claim Ariel set them up to meet Mrs. Antony, but say the incident was totally consensual. Mrs. Antony says she didn't make any kind of invitation and that she was raped, but she can't explain how she got there. She says she was drugged, but the hallway video apparently doesn't support that. Mr. Ariel denies delivering the invitation note, as well as doing anything like drugging Mrs. Antony, but most of the circumstantial evidence points to him. However the explicit evidence-- the hallway video-- doesn't implicate him. But, he's the only one with a compelling motive. It just doesn't fit together."

"Keep working on it, Colonel." If he was perturbed by the apparent inconsistencies, the Admiral kept it well concealed. "What has your own investigation uncovered?"

Mac sighed. "Do you want details of the other contestants' private lives?"

"Not really."

"We haven't had much contact with Ariel. It seemed unwise to draw his attention. Harm is going to try to get some information from one of the techs who run the recording system, under the guise of trying to find evidence that Booth Crossby is abusing his wife."

There was a short pause. "Make sure you stay on track, Colonel."

Mac heard the warning clearly. "Yes, sir."

"Anything else?"

"No, sir."

There was a pause, and Mac's stomach tightened. 

"That will be all, Lieutenant," she heard Chedgwidden tell Bud. After a moment-- no doubt to allow Bud time to leave the office-- he went on in a more personal voice. "How are you holding up, Mac?" 

Mac drew a deep breath. "Sir?"

"The last episode we saw, things seemed a bit… tense between you and Harm." The Admiral's tone indicated he was growing more uncomfortable by the moment.

"We're o.k., sir."

"Very well." She imagined him clasping his hands together on his desk, frown in place. "That will be all." She could hear the smile in his voice. "You two be good, Colonel."

"Yes, sir." Oddly encouraged, she ended the call.


	25. [25]

Chapter 25

After Mac finished her conversation with the Admiral, she climbed into the shower. Her mind continued to run through the information she'd received, trying to put it into some kind of comprehensible whole. Unfortunately, her brain kept drifting to inconsequential details. _Colonel Rabb._ She found herself trying to imagine what it would be like to be back at JAG. Now, when the Admiral leaned out his door and yelled _Rabb!_ would that still mean Harm, or perhaps both of them? And every time they reported to an assignment together, what would they say? _Sir, Commander Rabb and Colonel Rabb reporting as ordered._ Every skipper or CO they ever stood in front of would look at them cross-eyed. They'd waste both time and good favor with each one, explaining how a couple of married officers could work together. Eventually, word would get around, and the wasted time would be replaced by, _Oh, you two._ Mac wasn't sure which would be worse. 

She sighed. _Well, you didn't have to take his name._ But she'd wanted to. Growing up, she'd felt reassured by the fact that her mother was Mrs. MacKenzie. Not that it had kept her from abandoning the family, but…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing. A moment later, Harm stuck his head around the curtain. 

"Mind if I join you?"

Mac summoned a smile. "Of course not." She cocked an eyebrow. "Morning meeting?" They often showered together, both for the entertainment value and because it was the only place they felt safe talking, certain the conversation couldn't be recorded.

Harm nodded. A minute later, he joined her in the water. Mac slipped into his arms for a hug.

"Bad news?" he asked.

"Confusing," she answered, and proceeded to describe for him the details of her conversation with Admiral Chegwidden and Bud.

Harm's brow furrowed as he thought. "You're right. Something doesn't add up. Either Ariel somehow modified the hall recording, or Mrs. Antony is lying." He picked up his soap, turning it in his hands to make lather. Mac wondered what it was about men and bar soap. However, since Harm generally referred to her bath sponge as "that poof thing", she supposed she already knew the answer. 

"I may be able to work the hall recording angle," Harm went on, oblivious to her thoughts. Mac forced her mind back on topic.

"You had a productive conversation with Mr. Laughton?" They'd picked him after a little discreet asking around revealed that Mr. Laughton was considered the black sheep whiz of the technical staff. And Tony Ariel apparently disliked him. 

Harm summarized his encounter with the technician.

"So he knows something-- about Boothe and Carmen, at least." Mac added the new information to her growing collection of facts. Right now, each one was like a puzzle piece, a random part of a whole whose image she'd never seen. Once they'd gathered enough pieces and put them in something close to proper order, the larger image would start to become clear.

Harm nodded. "I'm a little curious about what he was doing when I found him, too."

Mac frowned. "He said he was fixing something, right?"

"Yeah, but how often do they come in and start messing with the wiring when we have computer problems at the office?"

Mac raised an eyebrow. "Never, as far as I've seen."

"My point exactly. It doesn't ring true. Maybe Bud can tell us what he might have been doing in there."

Mac chuckled. Bud. Sweet, humble, unassuming Bud, who had more esoteric knowledge stored in his brain than anyone she'd ever met. 

"Probably," she agreed.

Mac picked up her bath sponge, squirted soap onto it, and began to wash. The soap's hazelnut smell filled the air.

"Here, why don't you let me do that." Harm wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as he held out a hand for the sponge.

Laughing, Mac surrendered it. "I take it we're done with the serious conversation."

"I can think of much more interesting things to be doing while standing next to a beautiful, naked, soapy woman."

She grinned. "I'll bet." Keeping a hand on his shoulder for balance, she closed her eyes as the sponge slipped across her skin. The bath was more an expression of affection than desire, but Mac happily submerged her thoughts in favor of the delicious sensation.

Some time later, Harm stopped abruptly with a low, angry curse. Mac's eyes flew open. She turned her head to look up at him, not too terribly surprised to find his gaze empty, locked on some distant point. 

"Harm?" 

He dragged her into his arms for a tight, slippery hug, as if suddenly needing reassurance.

Mac bit back a surge of alarm. "Harm, talk to me." She kept her voice level. "What is it?" Obviously, the wheels in his head had continued to turn and he didn't like where his thoughts had taken him.

He heaved a sigh. "Steiner was wrong when he said Ariel would target us because we're lawyers."

Mac frowned, trying to follow his train of thought.

Harm went on. "Ariel doesn't care about the show's ratings. His bonus is based on there being one winner, period. Steiner's too wrapped up in where his own profits come from."

"Or he didn't know about Ariel's bonus," Mac reminded him.

Harm's expression said he didn't believe that for a moment.

Mac shrugged. Neither did she, honestly. "So what are you getting at?"

Harm didn't meet her gaze. "Why do you think Ariel picked the Antonys?" He paused, and a hint of sarcasm crept into his voice. "Assuming, of course, that he _is_ guilty."

Mac shrugged. The answer was obvious. "Because Mrs. Antony already had an ongoing… relationship, for lack of a better word, with two men other than her husband. She was an easy target." Mac sucked in her breath in sudden understanding. She pulled back to look up at her husband. "So if we want to have any hope of getting him to try the same stunt with _us_…"

Harm's eyes filled with grim shadows as he nodded. "…then when the time comes, we have to give him the same kind of opportunity."

They stared at each other in silence, heedless of the water that was slowly growing cold around them. Mac wanted to yell at Harm, tell him he was wrong, but the words lodged in her throat. Eventually, Harm reached down to adjust the water temperature, bringing a fresh burst of warmth. The water did nothing to dispel the cold fear Mac felt inside. She deliberately turned her back to him and picked up the shampoo. 

"We'd better finish up," was all she could find to say. She didn't look at her husband.

She could feel his gaze boring a hole in the back of her head as she worked the shampoo into her hair. "Mac, please, be reasonable." She could hear the tired patience and regret in his voice, and underlying them, the unyielding iron of his will.

Mac spun to face him, overwhelmed by a flood of emotions. "No, I will _not_ be reasonable! Not about this." Throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed him with everything that was inside her-- love, passion, anger, fear, determination. Harm answered her with a savage passion of his own, crushing her against him. Water and suds ran down Mac's face in torrents, filling her mouth with the taste of soap. She didn't care. She was his, and he was hers. _Nothing_ could ever compromise that. She wouldn't let it.

Eventually, they separated. Mac lay her head against Harm's shoulder, feeling his collarbone beneath her cheek, as he buried his face against her neck. She spluttered a bit, trying to spit out the taste of the shampoo.

"_Blech_," Harm agreed in her ear. 

Mac couldn't help it. She burst out laughing, shattering the intensity of the moment. 

"Note to self: Rinse out the shampoo _first_," she said.

Harm joined her laughter. "I'll give you points for spontaneity, though."

Mac raked her hair back from her face as their mirth faded. Harm met her gaze. His eyes were deep and blue and calm.

She sighed and squared her shoulders. They'd gotten past the emotions. Now it was time to talk business. "So, this means I need to cultivate a boyfriend."

Harm nodded, not looking terribly pleased at the prospect. "Yeah. Slowly, though. We've still got three weeks left on this ship."

"At least we've got a believable set up going."

Harm gave her a curious look.

Mac returned the look innocently. "You and Ms. Upton, remember?"

She felt him tense. "Mac--"

"It's o.k., Harm." She cut him off mid-protest, smiling in reassurance. "I _know_ you're not interested in her. However, she _is_ interested in you, and the whole world by now knows I don't like it." She gave him a self-deprecating smile. "I'm sure we can play it into reason enough for me to…" Mac's voice faded as the enormity of what she was saying hit her. "…to be unfaithful." She bit her lip, forcing herself to meet her husband's gaze. She saw her own fears reflected there.

He shook his head slowly. "We don't have to do this, Mac."

"If we want to catch Ariel, we do."

He didn't try to argue that. "Forget Ariel for the moment. This is us I'm talking about." Harm captured her hands in his, pressing them to his chest, over his heart. "I want you to promise, Mac. If this… charade… starts to get confusing-- if either of us starts to doubt that we're acting-- we walk. No questions asked. We get off this ship and get on a plane and go someplace totally private, and we work it through." His fingers tightened around hers until they ached. "We've had too many misunderstandings already. I won't lose you to another one."

Mac's heart swelled at the words and the intensity of his stare. Weak-kneed, she nodded. "I promise." She licked her lips. "I love you, Harm."

His smile was like a sudden light. "I love you, too, Sarah. We'll get through this."

Mac smiled back at him. "Semper Fi, Navy."

He touched her face in a tender caress. "Semper Fi."

#

The aircraft turned out to be a Stampe-- a Belgian aerobatic trainer dating from the mid-1930's. The plane had been beautifully restored and had a modern avionics package in the cockpit. Harm wondered whose airshow Ariel had raided. But, with five thousand feet of air beneath his wings, he didn't really care. He was just grateful.

"Ready for another one?" he shouted to Nikki over the roar of the prop. A small video camera mounted on each of the windscreens recorded everything.

"Yeah!" She was laughing in sheer exhilaration.

Harm added power and pulled up, putting them in a steep climb. At ten thousand feet, he tipped the aircraft over, added rudder, and let the wings stall. Suddenly unable to generate lift, the biplane turned into a brightly painted rock. They fell out the sky, spiraling earthward.

Nikki screamed enthusiastically. 

At four thousand feet, Harm recovered from the spin. He pulled out at about 2 g's, grinning as he was shoved back into his seat. It felt so good to fly, especially after his conversation with Mac that morning. Things were uncomplicated in the air. For a little while, at least, he could forget his problems, his fears, and lose himself in the unadulterated joy flying brought him. 

Harm banked the aircraft and headed out over the water. Beneath them, the massive _Radiant Heart_ looked like a bath toy. The ocean darkened in gradients as the land beneath the water fell away. They could clearly see the outline of reefs near the tiny island hosting their activities that day. The sun gleamed on the water, making the shallows glow an unearthly turquoise, and turned the whitecaps golden.

Harm brought them down to the deck. Over the calm Caribbean waters, he felt safe dropping to twenty feet. They skimmed across the shallow water near the beach. Nikki waved to the people who lined the shore, watching them. Harm performed a ninety-degree snap roll, completing the pass with his wings perpendicular to the ground. Nikki cheered. 

"So, are you still being nice to me?" Nikki shouted as they gained altitude once again.

Harm grinned. "So far. Why? You ready to try some serious flying?"

Her laughter was torn away by the rushing wind. "Bring it on, Harm!"

#

To her surprise, Mac was having a great time. Her escort for the day was a young man named Toby Mathis. The ironic thing was that Toby could have been Nikki Upton's twin brother. He had the same deep tan and sun-streaked blond hair, the same cocksure smile. But despite being a full decade younger than Mac, he turned out to be pleasant enough company. They were snorkeling along one of the reefs, something Mac had never done before. She was amazed by the beauty of the fish that filled the water around her. Toby took time to point out different varieties of sea urchins and anemones, their puffy bodies decorated in a riot of pinks, purples and oranges. A diver followed them with an underwater camera, but Mac rarely noticed him. The sea itself was too captivating.

Around lunchtime, though, hunger finally drove her to shore. 

Laughing, Toby followed. "I've heard about your appetite."

Mac flopped down in the sand, clapping one hand over her stomach. "It's all true. Oh, I'm hungry." She glanced behind her to where a small crew was discretely setting up a small table, complete with flowers and white tablecloth. "I hope they don't take too long."

"Nah. They're usually pretty quick."

Mac chuckled. "I see. So I'm not the first woman you've used this routine on."

He looked down at his toes. "Caught me." His grin was guileless as he shrugged. "I just love snorkeling."

Mac waved his embarrassment away. "Can't blame you for that. It's amazing."

They chatted amiably until lunch was ready, then moved their conversation to the little table. Mac stopped short when she saw the food that had been laid out.

"Toby, you're my hero." Mac sank into her seat with a huge grin. Each plate held a monstrous hamburger, piled high with unhealthy goodies, and a mound of fries.

"I'd heard you were a major carnivore." He gestured for her to proceed. Mac dug in with gusto. 

Toby watched her for a moment, shaking his head and laughing. "Doesn't your husband feed you?"

Mac met Toby's gaze across the table, surprised. "Usually. He makes me eat vegetables, though."

Toby popped a french fry into his mouth. "Potatoes are vegetables."

"Point." Mac smiled, cocking her head to study him. "You know, you're the first of my escorts to voluntarily mention my husband to me."

Toby shrugged, seeming unconcerned. "Facts are facts. You are married, and seduction's not really my style. The way I figure it… I'm here, I'm available, and I'm a nice guy. If you want to do something about that, go right ahead." He turned on a charming smile, then let it fade. "If not, that's o.k., too."

Mac absorbed his explanation, then slowly grinned. "Deal." She went back to work on her food. "So what's the plan for the rest of the day?"

"Well, we can keep snorkeling, or I've got a boat reserved so we can do some water-skiing."

"Hmmm. Choices, choices." Her contemplation was interrupted by a distant, high-pitched roar-- the unmistakable sound of a small airplane. Mac looked up, shading her eyes as she scanned the sky. She spotted the red and yellow plane a moment later and smiled in satisfaction. It looked like Nikki Upton was getting exactly what she'd asked for. If she could still walk once Harm got her back on the ground, Mac would be impressed.

"So what do you think of Nikki?" Mac asked her escort after a moment.

Toby grinned at her. "Why? Is she the competition?"

Mac waited a beat too long to answer. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. "Of course not."

To her surprise, she saw sympathy in the younger man's gaze as he answered, "She _is_ pretty hot. Bossy, though."

Mac had to chuckle. "Well, if there's one thing Harm can't stand, it's bossy."

"Sounds like you don't have anything to worry about, then."

Mac sighed. "No, probably not."


	26. [26]

Chapter 26

It was nearly midnight as Harm made his way toward the conference rooms that hosted the frequent HALO sessions. All things considered, he would much rather have gone to bed with his wife. Despite George's claims, Harm didn't find any real appeal in the idea of staying up all night to play video games. _But, duty calls… Who knows, maybe being able to play one of these things will win me some points with Chloe._ He grimaced sourly. Yeah, right.

Harm reached the correct room and stepped into a computer generated war zone. Images were splashed across two walls in the darkened room. It took him a moment to realize they were first-person views of the same location, from different angles. The graphics were better than the best flight simulator he'd ever flown. A pile of computing equipment sat on the floor beneath each projected image. Two pair of speakers blared with noise-- voices shouting and giving commands, gunfire, screams and explosions. The weapon sounds were unrecognizable to his trained ear, but everything else shouted to Harm that he'd walked into the middle of a firefight. He tensed instinctively, fingers twitching toward a weapon he wasn't wearing.

"Pretty real, huh?" 

Harm whipped around to stare into George Laughton's round face. The other man took a half step back, his smile dying. Harm forced himself to relax before he gave himself away. _It's just a game._

"You're not kidding. I almost dove under the table." He cracked a smile. A table at the center of the room held the video projection equipment. Others were scattered about the room. Here and there, people sat to chat, eat or just watch.

George gave Harm an odd look, but chuckled. "Well, c'mon. Let me introduce you to some folks and then I'll show you the basics of the game." They wound their way through the tables, pausing from time to time to meet the people sitting there. The _Radiant Heart_ was a small community, all things considered, so Harm was familiar with most of the faces. 

They ended up next to one of the players. "Hey, Geordi," the man said, never taking his eyes from the screen. Harm was surprised to recognize Don, the cameraman who'd helped him rescue Nikki almost three weeks earlier.

"Hi, Don," Harm said, causing the other man to look up sharply. Then Don's face split in a wide smile.

"Hey, Hero."

Harm rolled his eyes. The ribbing about that little stunt had finally died away, for the most part.

George chuckled. "Looks like you've already got your screen name."

"Not likely," Harm told him. He would never live it down at JAG. "Yours is Geordi?"

George grinned. "Yeah, you know, _Star Trek: The Next Generation_?"

Harm just shrugged. When it came to television, he was pretty much lost.

"Never mind." George gestured toward the wall in front of Don. "They're playing capture the flag, every man for himself," he explained. "We have a total of four systems running, so there can be up to four players in the same game environment."

Harm watched the screen for a moment, then nodded. He'd flown multi-pilot simulations, even done a little dogfighting in that environment, so the concept wasn't new.

George spent some time giving him an overview of the game and explaining the various weapons and equipment available to the video game characters. Then, once Don's round had finished-- Harm had no idea who'd won, except that it wasn't Don-- George sat him down in the player's seat for an introduction to the hand controller. Under George's directions, Harm took his character off line for a practice session.

Once he was driving, Harm felt a lot better. As a fighter pilot, his reflexes and hand-eye coordination were exceptional, as was his ability to process information from multiple inputs in a realtime environment. Once he'd adjusted to the feel of the controller and started memorizing how to access things like his inventory, he quickly made progress. 

"Hammer?" George asked at one point, referring to Harm's screen name.

Harm shrugged. "It was my dad's call sign in Vietnam. Seemed appropriate."

"Your dad flew in Vietnam?"

In the midst of fighting his way out of a small ambush, Harm didn't look away from the screen. "Yeah."

"Cool," was George's only response. Harm had to smile. George's generation was the one after Harm's, and it was obvious he hadn't lived through the decade of vicious backlash against that war or seen the deep rift it had caused in the country. To the younger man it was just another piece of history-- 'cool' because America had stood up for something, even if they'd done a poor job of it. 

"The guy's a natural," Don commented to George a little while later as Harm wrapped up the practice round. The other man looked impressed.

George laughed and wagged a warning finger at Harm. "You aren't supposed to be this good at this." Harm stared as he continued, "I'm supposed to be bringing in fresh meat, not serious competition."

Mentally, Harm shook his head. It was just an innocuous statement. There was no way for George to know who he really was. George held out his hand for the controller.

"Here, I'm not going to try to walk you through joining a networked game. This time, at least, I'll just do it."

"Fine by me." Harm surrendered the controller. "I'm trying to memorize too much already."

"You seem to be doing pretty well at it," Don commented dryly.

Harm shrugged. "I'm a lawyer. Memorization is my life. You want me to quote you the Constitution?"

Don gave him a strange look. "All of it?"

"It _is_ the basis for all law in the United States."

Don grimaced. "No, thanks. I hated Social Studies."

"There. You're set." George handed the controller back to Harm. Harm accepted it, and was surprised to feel something other than plastic along the back of the device. He gave no sign, however, just palmed the slip of paper and tucked it in his jeans pocket. Then he gave all his attention to the virtual combat world of HALO.

#

Harm got back to the room just as Mac was waking up. She sat up in bed, looking deliciously tousled as she tried to gain her bearings.

"Are you just getting in?" she asked, her voice still thick with sleep. She rubbed her eyes and brushed a lock of hair away from her face, yawning hugely.

Harm grinned, then knelt on the edge of the bed to kiss her soundly. He was still running high on adrenaline and caffeine, and she was just too beautiful to leave alone.

Mac laughed when he released her, dark eyes dancing. "I take it you had a good time?"

Harm pushed himself away from the bed. Standing, he stripped off his shirt, then sat on the edge to take off his shoes. The jeans he would leave on until he got into the bathroom and could take a look at whatever George had passed him. "More than I expected, actually. I swear, the game's addictive."

Mac watched him as he undressed. "Are you headed for bed?"

Harm flashed her a smile. "I couldn't sleep right now if I had to."

She grinned wryly. "I know. You're positively bouncing." 

He headed into the bathroom. Mac followed him. Once they were safely away from the cameras, Harm pulled out George's note. 

Mac raised an eyebrow in silent question, and Harm nodded. He unfolded the paper, tilting it so Mac could see it as well. The note read:

__

There's a secondary recording system in the contestants' cabins-- sound only. It records while the cabin cameras are off. Only the bathroom is safe.

Harm frowned. The information wasn't exactly a huge surprise, but the confirmation only served to anger him. Such recording was, technically speaking, illegal, though whether there was enough to make a case against Ariel, Steiner, or the studio, he couldn't say.

Mac's brow dipped as she tapped the note. "He didn't say anything about Boothe and Carmen," she whispered.

"Not explicitly," Harm countered, also in a whisper. "But he could be implying there's evidence on these sound tapes. Something that happened when they didn't know they were being recorded."

"Maybe. Or maybe the warning is directed at us." She gave Harm a grave stare. "Do you think Webb could have planted someone on the ship?"

He blinked. That had never occurred to him. "George? That would be a pretty big coincidence." He shrugged. "But I wouldn't put anything past Webb. We can ask the Admiral."

Mac watched him thoughtfully. "We're going to have to be really careful not to step out of character for the next few weeks."

Harm nodded grimly. The apparent rift they generated to give Ariel the opportunity to target them would have to exist twenty-four hours a day because of the secondary recording system.

He shoved the thought away. For now, at least, such concerns remained in the future. They could still legitimately be a happily married couple until the opportunity to start destroying the relationship presented itself. Unconsciously, he fingered the ring on his left hand, and the miracle it represented.

"Mac, did I ever tell you how sorry I am that it took something like this insane investigation to shove me into marrying you?"

Her brown eyes widened in surprise. "No, but--"

Harm silenced her with a finger to her lips. "Then I should." He cupped her cheek in his hand, lightly stroking the line of her lower lip with his thumb. It was getting easier to be honest with her. He took a deep breath.

"You deserved better than this, Mac. You deserved…" He faltered for a moment. He had had his own secret dreams of what their wedding would be. "You deserved to have your wedding in a rose garden, and to know that the only reason it was happening was because there was a man who loved you more than more than anything-- more than his independence, more than flying… more than life itself." Harm wasn't entirely sure when he'd realized that he'd be willing to walk away from anything else in his life if it meant keeping Mac.

Mac's eyes filled with tears. "Dress whites and roses…" She smiled wistfully. "That's how I always envisioned our wedding, too." She raised a hand to cover his where it rested on her face, her expression firming. "But it doesn't matter. What matters is that we're together."

Harm wondered if she had any idea what an amazing woman she was. "No, it does matter, Mac. I can't turn the clock back, and, to be brutally honest, I'm not sure I would ever have gotten to this point without being forced into it--" He sighed. It was disappointing to see this flaw in himself so clearly. "But with the wisdom of hindsight, I just wanted to tell you that I wish I'd been able to do it right."

With a crooked smile, Mac raised her left hand to show him her wedding rings. The diamond that had once belonged to Harm's mother sparkled and flashed in the harsh electric lighting.

"Are you so sure you haven't?" she asked him.

He looked at her blankly. Her smile deepened.

"Your mother told me about this ring, Harm." She looked down at her feet for a moment, her expression filling with pain. "It was the only thing that kept me from completely coming apart that last day or so."

A knife to the heart would have been kinder. Harm pulled her close, feeling the hot sting of tears. "I'm so sorry, Sarah. I never wanted to hurt you."

Mac sighed softly. "And I forgive you, if there's any need for it." She shook her head. "We were so messed up, Harm… As crazy as this whole thing has been, I'm not sure we could have made it any other way." She pulled back to look up at him, her gaze firm. "I'll take the reality over the fairy tale any day."

Harm had to smile at that. "Me, too."


	27. [27]

Chapter 27

Harm stood at the bar in one of the _Radiant Heart_'s dance clubs, quietly nursing his bourbon. Mac had already gone to bed and the HALO session wouldn't start for another hour, so he was killing time. Heavy techno music throbbed through the crowded room, so loud he felt like his teeth were vibrating. A couple of women had come by already with invitations to dance, but he'd turned them down. For one, none had been Nikki. And even if she had been there, it was a step he was deeply hesitant to take. There would always be another opportunity. On this ship, that much was guaranteed.

He took another sip of his bourbon. _Maybe if I procrastinate long enough, we can come up with a better plan._ One that didn't involve walking the gray line between fidelity and betrayal.

A hand closed on Harm's shoulder, strong fingers digging into the joint. Harm turned in surprise to find Boothe behind him, his face suffused with anger.

Boothe leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Just where do you get off telling people that I abuse my wife?" he shouted over the music.

Harm pulled out of the other man's grasp and turned to face him. "Do you?" he shouted back.

Boothe took a deep breath, then opened his mouth for a response. Harm braced himself. But then Boothe seemed to deflate. He gave Harm a look that was part fury, part disgust, and rolled his eyes. He waved toward the door as if to usher Harm outside. 

Curious, Harm complied. Leaving his drink, he followed Boothe out of the club. The main concourse was fairly deserted at that late hour, giving them some semblance of privacy.

Once they had walked a short distance from the door, Boothe stopped and turned around. "Now I'll answer your question. No, I do not-- and have not ever-- abused my wife." His voice was taut with suppressed anger. "Where do you get off accusing me? Did you know Tony Ariel came to see Carmen and me and _suggested_ that we withdraw?" He made a sharp gesture. "Apparently they don't want a _wife-beater _on their show!"

Harm watched the other man cautiously. Boothe appeared to be sober. Harm crossed his arms over his chest, keeping his demeanor casual. 

"Carmen told Mac you hit her." 

Boothe looked startled for a moment, then the anger returned. "You're lying." He took a step closer.

Harm shook his head, but otherwise didn't give. "I'm not. Do you deny hitting her?"

"You sound like a cop."

Harm frowned. "No, just a lawyer."

Boothe glared. "Then stop talking to me like a lawyer!"

They were nearly nose to nose now. Harm smiled in what he hoped was an engaging way. If at all possible, he wanted to defuse the situation. "Sorry about that. It's what I am." 

Boothe stared at him, the menace in his expression unwavering. "Look, I don't know where this is coming from, but it's not true. It's some head game of Carmen's, so stay out, got it?"

Harm raised his hands, palms out. "Hey, Mac was concerned so we started asking some questions. That's all. Do you know if Carmen has any abuse in her past?"

Boothe's laughter was hard and brittle. "Little Miss Rodeo Drive? Daddy would have had them shot."

Harm took a deliberate step back. "Wait-- Carmen grew up on Rodeo?" Boothe nodded, and his mind started turning in new directions. Rodeo Drive meant serious money. "She hasn't been disinherited or anything, has she?"

That earned him an odd look. "No. Why would you say that?"

Harm shook his head. "Never mind. You're right. She's playing some kind of head game with Mac."

Boothe's stormy expression began to fade. He nodded sharply. "All right then." 

Harm studied him. He was beginning to get the feeling it was Boothe's position in the marriage that was precarious, not Carmen's. 

Harm cocked his head. "Her family doesn't like you very much, do they?"

Boothe gave a derisive snort.

"How'd you two end up on the show?"

Boothe shrugged. "Carmen's idea. I figured it'd be a lark, though." He looked at Harm. "What about you and Mac?"

Harm chuckled. "I'm chalking it up to temporary insanity."

Boothe grinned, and for the first time Harm began to feel like he had some idea what was going on inside the other man. He wondered if Boothe had married Carmen for her family money, or if he really cared for her. Harm didn't envy him, in either case.

He took his leave then and headed for the HALO rooms. Now all he had to do was figure out how to continue the investigation without the excuse of digging into Boothe and Carmen's relationship.

#

Mac wandered the confines of the stateroom restlessly. She'd told Harm she was going to bed, but she couldn't force herself to lie down. Every time she closed her eyes, her mind conjured another image of her husband-- in the arms of Nikki Upton. 

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Frustrated with herself and her overwhelming insecurity when it came to her relationship with Harm, she stalked over to the closet and began to dress. She would go crazy trapped in here.

The night air felt good against her face as Mac stepped out onto the deck. Overhead, the stars were bright and so numerous they looked like salt scattered across a dark cloth. She went to the rail and stood there for a while, watching the water.

"Penny for your thoughts?" a man's voice asked from a few steps behind her.

Mac glanced over her shoulder to find Toby watching her, his expression curious. "You wouldn't be getting much for your money," she answered, and turned back to the water.

He came forward, leaned his elbows on the rail next to where she stood. "That's o.k. It's an investment."

Mac couldn't help a small smile.

"So where's hubby?" Toby asked after a moment.

"Playing video games."

"He got sucked in to that, huh?"

Mac nodded, unconsciously clasping her hands together in front of her. "Third night this week." She sighed softly.

"Uh oh. Well, he's an idiot for ignoring someone as nice and smart and beautiful and funny and--"

"Oh, stop!" Mac was grinning widely. Her smile quickly faded. "Thanks."

"No problem." 

They stood together in silence. Mac watched the dark water and listened to the soft rush of air past her face.

"You hungry?" Toby asked suddenly.

Mac flashed a smile. "Always."

"You want to go get something to eat? I hear the midnight buffet's to die for." After a moment's hesitation, he offered his hand.

Mac stared at him. _I don't want to do this. It's necessary. It's not worth the price. Harm knows it's not real. It too easily could be._ Mind and conscience warred over her response.

"Just friends?" she asked, biting her lip.

He grinned and shrugged. "Sure."

Taking a deep breath, Mac slipped her hand into his.

They wandered the length of the ship, arriving eventually at the buffet. There were a few people around, and Mac self-consciously pulled her hand away from Toby's as those nearby took note of their arrival. 

Together, they moved to the head of the buffet table. Mac picked her way through the food, wishing she was as hungry as she claimed. Eventually they settled at a table near the edge of the cavernous room. Despite Mac's fears, Toby did nothing overtly suggestive. He was friendly and lighthearted-- exactly what she needed to take her mind off Harm. They talked about inconsequential things, shared stories from their college days (though his were a good deal more recent than hers), and had a generally good time.

They'd been there about an hour when a voice she knew better than her own shattered the small measure of peace she'd gained. Mac heard her husband's laughter and looked around, startled. He had just walked in, along with five or six others. They were all chatting companionably, but Mac's gut twisted at the sight of a certain blond head bobbing along beside Harm. Nikki Upton had apparently figured out where Harm was spending his evenings.

"Looks like the game crew got hungry," Toby commented. He sounded as wary as Mac felt. "Do you want to go say hi?"

Mac started to shake her head, but stopped when Nikki reached up to lay a hand on Harm's shoulder, leaning into him as she talked. 

Something inside Mac snapped at the casually familiar gesture. She rose from her chair like an uncoiling spring, hands curling into fists at her side. Marines didn't back down, didn't surrender a position once they'd taken it. And Harm was _hers_. 

She stalked toward the group. A small, rational voice in the back of her mind insisted she was making a foolish mistake, but the rest simply wasn't listening. In that moment, Mac didn't care about the investigation, the Navy, or even the two reservists waiting for them back in Virginia. All that mattered was that there was another woman making a move on her husband, and he was doing nothing to stop it.

The group of gamers was too involved in their conversation to notice Mac's approach. Even Harm, who had uncanny spatial awareness, didn't give any indication he'd seen her. 

Nikki had her back turned, so it was a simple matter for Mac to walk up, grab the other woman by both shoulders and spin her away from Harm. Mac caught some of Nikki's hair in the process, and was rewarded by a screech that plunged the room into silence. She stepped into the vacated spot, putting herself between Nikki and Harm, and glared at the blond co-ed. Very deliberately, she raised her hand to shake away the long blond strands that clung to her fingers, keeping her eyes locked on the younger woman's.

"Mac, what are you doing?" Harm's voice came from behind her, hard-edged and carrying a clear warning note.

Mac ignored him. She took a step forward, arms held away from her sides and fingers spread in an unconscious fighter's stance. Nikki swallowed hard. Mac grinned at her discomfort. She leaned forward until her face was only a couple of inches from Nikki's.

"Stay away from my husband," she said in a quiet, clearly-enunciated voice.

Nikki stared. 

Mac studied her for a long moment, then nodded in satisfaction. She spun on her heel to leave, only to nearly collide with Harm who stood a pace behind her. They stared at each other in silence. Harm's expression could have been chiseled in stone for all the reaction he showed. Only his eyes were alive, flashing with indignation and anger.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded. 

Mac raised her chin, her stomach clenched in a hard, cold knot. "Defending my marriage, which you, apparently, don't care to do."

Harm's gaze flicked to Toby, who had followed Mac and now stood a few feet behind her, watching everything with ill-concealed nervousness. Harm raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" His tone was thick with sarcasm. "Looks to me like we're on pretty even ground. Maybe you should go look in a mirror before you make any more accusations."

"Maybe so," she agreed tightly. "At least then one of us would still remember what I look like." With that, she turned and strode away.

"Thanks for the company, Toby," she told the young man as she brushed past him, her eyes firmly fastened on the far wall.

"Any time," he answered from behind her, but the statement lacked conviction.

Feeling the eyes of everyone in the room on her back, Mac forced herself to keep her steps even as she walked out. 

Having nowhere else to go, she went back to the room she shared with Harm. She turned the lights on as she entered, knowing that she'd turned on the cameras as well despite the hour, and dropped heavily onto the edge of the bed.

Reaction set in. She began to shake. Tears quickly followed. Leaning forward, Mac clasped her hands together between her knees and let them fall.

#

Harm returned to the room just before 0400. Mac was still awake, curled up in one corner of the bed, reading. She'd been too keyed up to sleep and too afraid of the kinds of dreams she'd have if she'd tried, so she'd done her best to lose herself in a halfway intelligent mystery novel she'd bought a few days earlier.

She looked up when Harm entered. Their eyes locked across the length of the room. Mac couldn't bring herself to speak.

After a moment, Harm pulled his gaze away. He headed for the bathroom, stripping off his shirt as he went and leaving it in a heap on the floor behind him. Mac stared at the crumpled pile of cloth. It was such an un-Harm thing to do that she was momentarily shocked.

Tossing her book aside, she followed him, wondering with some trepidation what she might find. She tried not to let her fear show, though. If anyone had a right to be angry it was she, and to that effect, she kicked the bathroom door closed behind her as she entered.

Harm was waiting for her. He leaned casually against the edge of the sink, arms crossed over his bare chest. But the cold, impassive face he'd worn since walking into the stateroom cracked when the door slammed shut.

"Wow, Mac." The blue eyes suddenly twinkled with wicked humor. "You're good."

Mac caught her breath in a gasp as everything turned right in the world once again. 

"You're not so bad yourself," she managed, crossing the distance between them in two strides. Harm barely had time to open his arms before she hit him, wrapping her arms around his neck and seeking his mouth with desperate need. He pulled her tight against him, one large hand knotting in her hair as he kissed her roughly in return.

The kiss ended as abruptly as it began. They stared at each other for a long, frozen moment. Then Harm's painful grip on her hair loosened. His gaze softened as he gently stroked the disturbed locks back into place and leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. Mac smiled at the feeling of his lips against her skin.

"Are we o.k.?" he asked, his breath warm on her hairline.

Mac let out a deep sigh. "Yeah." She kissed his throat, then tipped her head to touch her lips to the soft spot just beneath his jaw. The dark stubble of his beard scraped her mouth, sending a thrill through her entire body.

He chuckled. "I thought for sure you were going to take the poor girl's head off."

"I was tempted, believe me." She turned her attention to the other side of his neck, feeling his skin warm in response to her ministrations. His pulse quickened beneath her lips.

The tenor of his laugh changed. His hands came to rest on her waist. "Mac, I really like what you're doing, but you've got to stop."

Regretfully, she pulled away. "I suppose, seeing as we're supposed to be arguing." 

Her comment damped the desire flaring in his eyes. His lips twisted in a sour smile. "How do you want to play it?"

Mac gave the question careful consideration, ignoring the insistent voice in the back of her mind that told her to bag the investigation in favor of kissing this man until she couldn't remember her own name. 

While she thought, Harm gave her an amused look from beneath his brows. "I would love to know what's going through your mind right now."

Mac flushed, grinning in embarrassment. "Yes you would," she agreed, but didn't elaborate. She pushed her thoughts back onto the question at hand. "We both need some sleep. Do you think frigid silence would be believable? I'd really like to lay next to you even if I have to pretend I'm not enjoying it."

He smiled ruefully. "I think we can make it work." He paused, eyebrows wriggling with irrepressible humor. "If you think you can keep your hands off me, that is."

Mac chuckled. "I can if you can."

He bowed with a flourish, gesturing toward the door. "After you, then."


	28. [28]

Chapter 28

Harm sat on the edge of the tub as he waited for the Admiral to pick up his phone. Water splattered against the shower curtain, the sound a constant hiss behind him. _One week and six days_, he thought. _Less than two weeks left. I cannot _wait_ to get off this ship. Come on, Admiral, pick up._ Harm's thoughts ran in impatient circles. He'd hardly seen Mac during the last couple of days, and as much as avoiding each other was necessary to the case, it was also driving him crazy.

A familiar click told him Admiral Chegwidden had come on the line. "Commander." The Admiral's tone was brusque.

"Good morning, sir."

There was a short, ominous pause. "Commander, I have only one thing to say to you today."

After many years in Chegwidden's command, Harm had developed an instinctive sense for when to brace himself. "Sir?"

He heard the Admiral draw a deep breath and tipped the phone's earpiece away from his head in expectation. 

"Just what in the name of all that's holy do you think you're doing out there, Mr. Rabb? Have you totally taken leave of your senses? This is quite possibly the most shameful display I have ever seen from an officer under my command, and that's saying a lot, considering your track record. Don't think I won't yank both your butts back to Washington for disciplinary action, if I find it necessary. Do I make myself clear, Commander?"

Harm winced at his superior's tone, but couldn't help a grin. _Temptation Cruise II_ had aired an episode the night before. He could only guess what Steiner was doing with his and Mac's unhappy charade. The Admiral pretended he didn't care about the people serving under him, but they all knew better.

"Yes, sir. Perfectly, sir." Harm tried to keep the smile out of his voice, and failed miserably. 

If possible, Chegwidden's voice grew sharper. "Something amuses you, Commander?"

Harm bit his lip to keep his chuckle from escaping. It wasn't often he got to embarrass his superior without serious repercussions. "Sir, you really shouldn't believe everything you see on t.v.," he said in his most reasonable tone.

Silence answered him. Harm imagined the Admiral collapsing into his chair as he processed the new information.

"Good grief, Commander."

Harm finally decided it was safe to laugh. "That about sums it up, sir. I take it we're doing a convincing job of sending our relationship into a fatal tailspin?" 

"_Convincing?_" The Admiral's tone took on a sardonic note. "Next time, warn me, Rabb, and I won't volunteer to take over hosting duty for the JAG _Temptation Cruise_ party. I nearly had a riot on my hands last night."

Harm grimaced. "Sorry about that, sir. I hope we didn't cause too much trouble."

Chegwidden snorted. "Well, other than Lieutenant Simms bawling all over my Parisian couch, I don't think there was any permanent harm done."

Harm was grateful he was on the phone and didn't have to face his commanding officer directly. Poor Harriet. "Will you tell the Lieutenant not to worry, sir? And Bud, as well."

The Admiral's tone turned thoughtful. "I can do that, Commander, though it won't help the rest of the world, if all of the disgusted callers I heard on the radio on my drive in are any indication."

Harm stared at the floor, trying to absorb the idea. "People call into radio stations about us?" It seemed ludicrous.

"Yes, and at the moment they all seem to be a bit… irate… with the two of you."

A thought struck Harm and he groaned involuntarily.

"Commander?"

Harm covered his eyes with one hand. "It's my mother, sir. I didn't even think--" He paused, shaking his head. How many years had she been after him about Mac? "She's going to kill me."

He heard a muffled noise that might have been laughter from Chegwidden. "I'll take care of it," he assured Harm. 

Harm nodded in unconscious relief. "Thank you, sir."

The Admiral returned to the business at hand. "So what's your plan, Commander?"

Harm collected his thoughts. "Same as it has been, sir. Catch Ariel in the act. We realized about a week ago that the Antonys were the target of opportunity-- they were already having significant problems in their relationship, to the point that Mrs. Antony had made several overtures toward the two Naval reservists. If we want Ariel to go after Mac, we have to present him with a similarly easy-looking target." He paused. "Anything further on Steiner's involvement?"

Harm heard papers rustling across the Admiral's desk. "No, not yet. My gut tells me he knew, though whether that was before or after the fact remains a mystery."

"Are you leaning one way or the other, sir?"

He heard a small snort of amusement. "If I had to choose, I'd say he didn't know until afterward-- but has been playing the entire situation for his own benefit."

"All right, sir. Thank you."

"Carry on, Commander."

"Aye aye, sir."

Harm put the satellite phone back in its case and sat with his chin on his hands, thinking. It all came down to catching Ariel in the act, and knowing the camera system probably had some convenient faults made getting hard evidence somewhat risky. It was possible Ariel would use the same rooms as the last cruise, or that the technical staff would know which cameras were having problems if the rooms had been changed, but that would mean giving themselves away to George Laughton. They would have to have his help if they wanted to record Ariel making his move.

#

A.J. stared at his phone for some time after hanging up with Commander Rabb. The political ramifications of this case had grown far beyond the fact that two reservists were facing rape charges. Any moment now, he expected to get a call from the SECNAV, chewing him out for the Rabbs' behavior on national television. Because of the popularity of the show, Harm and Mac had suddenly become the number one source for the public's opinion of the Navy. A.J. found it ironic that, in doing their jobs, they might very well cause more damage to the Navy's reputation than had they never volunteered for the assignment.

However, A.J. was pretty sure he could fix the problem without compromising the investigation. The idea that had come to him while talking with Commander Rabb had its pitfalls-- namely, trusting Dan Steiner-- but was, in his opinion, well worth the risk.

He touched a button on his intercom. "Tiner! Get me Daniel Steiner on the line."

"Yes, sir," came the new lieutenant's response. A.J. drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited. Now that Tiner was through OCS, the lieutenant j.g. really deserved to be doing something more than playing secretary for an Admiral. A.J. was loath to let him go, however. Finding someone as easily cowed as Tiner would be difficult.

"Mr. Steiner on line two," Tiner told him a minute later.

"Thank you, Tiner." A.J. pushed the appropriate button and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his desk blotter. "Good day, Mr. Steiner," he said politely. 

"Admiral, if you're calling to tell me to lighten up on your people, don't bother." Steiner sounded a little harried. "They're digging their own graves out there."

A.J. ignored the producer's rudeness with an effort of will. He arched one eyebrow. "Did your rating take a tumble?"

Steiner made a disgusted noise. "Nosedive is more like it." A.J. could almost hear him shaking his head. "Do you know how many people were-- and I stress the past tense there-- tuning in just to see those two win? I mean, they had the audience believing in fairytales-- happily ever after, and all that."

A.J. couldn't help but smile. Mac wasn't exactly a fairytale princess, nor Harm the typical Prince Charming, but there was definitely something magical between them.

"What if I told you the dissonance is entirely an act?" he asked. 

From the abrupt silence on the other end, A.J. knew he'd captured the producer's full attention. He continued, "I talked with Commander Rabb this morning. It is his and Colonel Rabb's firm opinion that the division is necessary to draw Ariel--"

"Wait." Steiner cut him off. "You _talked_ to Commander Rabb today? How did you do that?"

A.J. chuckled lightly. "This is the United States military, Mr. Steiner. We have our ways." He couldn't help but feel a little smug. "I was going to propose that you incorporate this new twist into your broadcasts. It would be good for your ratings as well as the Navy's PR."

A thoughtful silence filled the other end of the line. "Can you prove it?" Steiner finally asked, and A.J. knew he had him. "I mean, do I get anything besides your word--"

"I'll get you a tape of my conversation with the commander," A.J. assured him. Properly edited, of course. "It bounced off a satellite, so I'm sure the CIA has a copy of it somewhere." Considering Webb had a whole passel of agents-in-training running the thing as an op, it'd better. 

"You say that like it's a good thing," Steiner muttered. Then, louder, "Get me the tape and I'll see what we can do on this end." 

A.J. nodded in satisfaction. "I'll do that."

There was a pause. "Is there any chance we could get a live interview?"

A.J. chuckled. Greed would make sure the producer did what A.J. wanted him to, and the Navy would regain its prime time heroes. 

As soon as he hung up with Steiner, A.J. pressed the button for Tiner. "Get me Clayton Webb," he told the lieutenant, then settled back in his chair. Now all he had to do was figure out how to break the news to his own people without creating an unprofessional uproar in the office.

#

Harm was getting thoroughly sick of Nikki Upton. He felt like he couldn't turn around anymore without seeing her. Right now was just another case in point. He'd gone to swim laps in the deck pool for no other reason than because one couldn't interact with other people while swimming and he wanted to be left alone for a while. But who did he find sitting at the end of his lane after only a few laps?

Carefully schooling his expression, Harm pulled up at the end of the lane, catching the edge of the pool with one hand and bracing his feet against the wall.

"What's up?" he asked casually, shading his eyes to look up at Nikki. She was dressed in a very scanty bikini-- the size of the bathing suits seemed to be diminishing as fast as their remaining time aboard the _Radiant Heart. _

Nikki shrugged and gave him what was, speaking impartially, a very fetching smile. Pretty as she was, though, Harm still found her presence annoying.

"A bunch of us are going dancing tonight at _Polyesters_. You interested?"

Harm tried not to wince at the mention of the ship's retro club. He hadn't much liked the 70's the first time through, let alone wanting to relive them.

"Uh… I don't know. Maybe." _Could you show a little more enthusiasm, Rabb? I'm sure she's positively overwhelmed._ He managed a smile. "Sorry. Too many late nights recently. I'm a little tired."

Nikki grinned at him. "Awwww." To his dismay, she pulled her feet out of the water, then lay down on her stomach at the edge of the pool, bracing herself on her elbows. 

Harm bit back a sigh. Not that it wasn't a nice view… just not half as nice as Mac's would have been. Thinking of Mac sharpened his interest better than any display of Nikki's possibly could, and he suppressed a second sigh. _Oh well. I'm supposed to be 'interested'._

Nikki had her feet up in the air, ankles crossed. She gave Harm a coquettish look, rotating one foot in lazy circles. "So, is there anything I can offer to entice you into coming with us tonight?"

__

Time to play the game, Harm thought. He'd been doing it so long it was almost second nature to grin back at her, the full-wattage ladykiller smile his father had left to him. "Why? Are you offering something?"

She leaned forward over the edge of the pool, smile widening. "Oh, I don't know…"

Harm didn't move-- either forward or back. "You'll have to do better than that," he chided her.

"Is that an invitation?" She slid forward until her lips hovered only a few inches from his. He could smell the combination of suntan lotion and chlorine emanating from her still-damp skin, and feel her breath on his mouth. He would have had to have been dead not to feel the impact of her closeness, but it was little more than an instinctive response. He already knew what a relationship with Nikki would be like-- he'd had too many of them in the past. Impersonal, mediocre, even in the physical aspects, and hollow. 

Mac was everything to him this woman was not, and could never be. He kept his smile in place only with an effort of will.

"More like a challenge," Harm answered her, hating every word.

That clinched it, as he'd known it would. Smiling triumphantly, Nikki closed the distance between them, and Harm did not resist as her mouth descended on his.


	29. [29]

Chapter 29

"You'll have to do better than that." Harm's words, coupled with that effortless, sexy smile of his, sent Nikki's heart straight into her throat. After all her hard work, he was finally starting to fall-- in lust, at least-- with her. That was what she wanted, what she craved. 

"Is that an invitation?" she breathed, hardly daring to hope he'd answer in kind rather than backing down, as had always happened in the past. A man like this was used to having female attention lavished on him. She could only hope that the cold shoulder treatment his wife had been giving him lately (stupid woman) would be the little nudge that sent him over the edge.

"More like a challenge," Harm answered with an inviting grin, his blue eyes threatening to drown her.

__

Houston, we have lift off! Nikki smiled in triumph as she leaned in. An electric thrill ran through her at the touch of his lips on hers. She closed her eyes, sinking, powerless, into the kiss as the heat of it speared through her.

And then, suddenly, he was gone. Nikki's eyes flew open. Harm was staring at her, his expression intense.

"This isn't going to happen," he said in a quiet voice. The blue eyes seemed to bore straight through her.

Heart sinking, Nikki tried to catch hold of an opportunity that was rapidly slipping through her fingers. "Well, maybe not now…"

"Not now, not tomorrow, or next week or next month. Not ever." She didn't see even a shadow of conflict behind the firm statement.

Nikki bit her lip as her dreams of stardom and of bedding quite possibly the most amazing man she'd ever met turned to dust. Strangely, she didn't feel angry. Only sad. She managed a nod.

Harm echoed her, unsmiling. Then, without another word, he turned and pushed off from the pool wall in a rush of water, his strokes strong and even. Nikki watched for a moment, then rose to her feet and walked away.

#

Mac stood just inside the doorway leading to the deck, frozen in shock. She was invisible in the shadow of the bridge structure that loomed above her, watching as Nikki Upton leaned down to kiss her husband.

It was a short kiss, some rational portion of Mac's brain told her, followed by an equally short conversation before Harm went back to his laps. What it meant, though… 

What it meant…

Mac didn't know what it meant.

Trembling, she turned and retraced her steps into the interior of the ship.

#

Harm wasn't sure how long he'd been lost in the cool, silent world beneath the water. He swam mechanically, needing the simple, repetitive motion to help measure the pace of his thoughts. He didn't know what to think, what to do. He'd never really been in a position like this before, where fulfilling his duty violated his ethics. His undercover assignments had never taken him into such gray lands before, nor left him feeling so… ashamed.

__

Ashamed. The word conjured memories-- kissing Mac that night on the Admiral's porch, the first time he'd seen his mother and Frank together, turning Mac away the night Renee's father died, waking up in the hospital knowing Mace was dead, staring at Diane's killer and realizing he had it inside him to murder a man…

All he knew at the moment was that he couldn't continue the charade with Nikki, for the sake of his own conscience. For the first few laps, he'd tried to convince himself that it was really about not wanting to hurt Mac-- that there were no deeper issues. But that wasn't true. Kissing Nikki was simply _wrong_. And he'd allowed it to happen.

It was a strange conviction for him, maybe. No doubt born of a bitter ten-year-old's inability to let go of his father and watch his mother fall in love with another man. No matter how good he was for her. But in finding the truth about his father, and in meeting Sergei, Harm had finally been able to get rid of the sense of betrayal that had followed him throughout his adult life. 

His deep-rooted belief that love required absolute loyalty, however, hadn't changed. It was fundamental to who he was. And when he'd kissed Mac on the Admiral's porch that night… it had shattered his image of himself as an honorable man. He knew he could have had her-- taken her away from Brumby with a touch, a word-- and destroyed everything decent inside himself in the process. 

He'd almost done it anyway. Only the irrational, numbing fear of loving her only to watch her die kept him from stepping across that line. One kind of selfishness preventing another, worse kind.

That was why he'd had to turn her away when Renee's father died. Because he'd given Renee a tacit promise, and was honor bound to be faithful to it until the promise was dissolved. And because, if he couldn't find the strength or decency to be true to himself, he would never be worthy of Mac.

Harm surfaced at the end of the lane and hooked his elbows over the edge, breathing hard. The investigation wasn't good enough reason to continue this horrible, deadly charade. Bringing Ariel to justice wasn't enough. Even giving Mrs. Antony closure with what she'd suffered wasn't enough. He'd made Mac a promise to walk away if it got to be too much. For him, that time had arrived.

Resolved, Harm hauled himself out of the pool. He grabbed his towel, drying himself as he walked toward the nearest doorway. He had to find Mac.

#

He found her on the far side of the ship, standing at the rail and looking out to sea. The ship's central structure threw the entire area into deep, cool shadow. Even the breeze seemed chilly. Still soaked from his swim, Harm shivered and pulled the towel around his shoulders as he walked forward. He stopped next to Mac, who didn't acknowledge his presence.

"You heard." It wasn't a question. Something about her expression told him she already knew what had happened.

"I saw, actually." She turned to look at him for a moment, her dark eyes inscrutable, then went back to staring at the ocean. "I don't want to talk about it."

Harm bit his lip at her tone. Was she just playing to the cameras? Sticking to her role with the same tenacity she showed in both the courtroom and her personal struggles? Or was this real?

"Mac--"

"No." She gripped the rail tightly in both hands, rocking back and forth as if torn between strong, conflicting desires. "I'm not going to talk about this now." She shot him a single, unrevealing glance. "Go away, Harm." The expression in her dark eyes turned pleading. "Please. We can talk later. Just not right now."

"But--"

"But nothing_,_ Harm. Just go." Her gaze changed subtly as she looked him up and down. "Go dry off."

His determination wavered. Had they really fallen this far? Or was it, like her little hair-pulling stunt, merely a superb act? _I guess the answer to that hinges on what I really think Sarah Rabb is made of._

Harm nodded once, sharply, as he made his decision. He owed her his trust, and his respect. He would believe the best and follow her lead on this, if only until they had the opportunity to talk without other ears. Then they could decide together what they wanted to do.

Turning, he left. He wandered aimlessly, his feet taking to the door of their stateroom without any conscious direction on his part. He went inside, closing the door behind him, and leaned his head against it.

After a bit, he pushed himself away and went to the closet for clothes and a dry towel. Then he headed into the bathroom to change.

Something scratched Harm's skin when he started to dry himself. He paused to investigate, and found a note pinned to the towel. Harm recognized the paper that filled the bedside notepad-- several sheets of it-- folded over and attached to the thick terry cloth with a safety pin.

He stared dully for a moment before detaching the slips of paper. Unfolding them, he found a long note written in Mac's blocky script.

Harm sat before he legs could betray him, and began to read.

__

Harm,

I'm not sure where to start, so I'll just plunge in. I don't know when we'll get a chance to talk. So here goes: 

I think my heart stopped beating when I saw Nikki Upton kiss you. I mean, we've talked about things like that and I know it's necessary, but I wasn't prepared for the reality. I'm sitting here right now, crying my eyes out and wanting so very much to throw myself into your arms and tell you I'm ready to walk away from the investigation. You promised we would go someplace private where we could talk, and right now I can't think of anything I want more.

I also know that would be the coward's way out, so I won't say it.

I'm not going to pretend that seeing you with Nikki today didn't hurt. It did. But I learned something important today, too. I learned that hurt is an emotion. Fear is an emotion (and I've got plenty of that floating around inside me right now as well). But trust is a decision. My decision. I'm tired of letting the past dictate the present. I'm tired of basing my security on events and the actions of others. I can't control what happens around me, or what you or anyone else chooses to do. I can control me. I can make choices for myself. I can decide what kind of person I'm going to be.

I trust you, Harm. No matter what evidence I see to the contrary, I am going to believe in us. 

That said, though, I hope I don't see you in person any time soon. I'm not sure I could control myself, though whether I'd deck you or just pin you down and have my way with you, I can't begin to guess. 

Ha. Who am I kidding? I know exactly which I'd do, and then where would our investigation be?

I love you,

Sarah

Harm read and re-read Mac's words until he was certain his eyes weren't deceiving him, and each time his smile widened. _Mac, you're amazing._

Standing, he tucked the note into his pocket, then finished getting dressed. Afterwards, he went looking for the pad his wife had used. Surreptitiously, of course. He found it conveniently left under the bathroom sink, along with a pen, and chuckled.

It didn't take him long to draft a reply, which he left tucked inside the cover of the novel she was currently reading. It was a poor substitute for holding her and looking into her chocolate eyes while they talked, but it was better than nothing. And it was for sure a lot better than wondering what was real and what wasn't.

__

Maybe we'll make it through this thing after all.


	30. [30]

Chapter 30

George hummed quietly to himself as he worked. He was crouched inside one of the many maintenance spaces inside the ship, peering into the gaping hole he'd created when he'd opened the large steel access panel. Wiring ran in thick bundles through the space, branching occasionally. George followed the convoluted mess with a practiced eye, comparing it to the wiring diagram in his hands. He was pretty sure he knew what he was looking at now. Someone had added a separate set of controls to a few of the cameras and he was trying to backtrack the additional network to figure out where the controller was located. So far he didn't know if it would turn out to be a purely mechanical/electrical switch, or if there might be a computer interface as well. 

George was intensely curious. Whatever was going on, he was certain, would have to do with the military's undercover investigation of the show and Tony Ariel, but how the two tied together he couldn't quite figure. And what Harm and his Marine wife were doing with the whole fighting routine also remained a mystery. George didn't think a man who had the exquisite control to fly fighters, the intelligence to earn a law degree, and the sneakiness to be involved in undercover investigation could possibly be a flagrantly immature as he had been acting. And likely, any woman he chose to be his partner would be more of the same. George had barely met Mac, so couldn't comment from personal contact, but her record would indicate she, too, was an exceptional person.

Groaning as he backed his way out of the cramped space, George tucked the wiring diagram away inside his shirt, then stood and stretched. He was done with this segment. He'd have to go up to the next level to continue tracing the wiring path, but that would have to wait until tomorrow night. His shift was almost over.

He made his way back to the AV room. Settling at the computer, he checked the progress of the data transfer batch he'd started before taking off to look at wire bundles. It had nearly completed. Perfect timing. He prepared the next set to be moved over, then leaned back in his chair.

The morning shift straggled in between ten and thirty minutes late, as usual. But, since Bob, their supervisor, was the worst offender, George had decided early on that discretion was the better part of valor in this case. He didn't complain. In fact, he never mentioned it at all except for some friendly teasing when the supervisor wasn't around.

Unfortunately, today looked to be a bad day for George's relationship with his boss. The technical supervisor for the AV crew was a tall, scarecrow of a man with thinning hair and poor posture. As opposed to the rest of the techies, who were Geeks, this man was the quintessential Nerd. George instinctively checked the man's shirt every day, looking for a pocket protector. 

"What did you do this time, Laughton?" Bob asked as soon as he walked in the room. His tone was filled with disgust.

George's heart leapt inside his chest in guilty panic. He took a moment to gain control of his reaction before turning his chair to face his boss. "What do you mean?" He tried to make the question curious rather than suspicious.

"Ariel wants to see you in his office as soon as you get off." Bob gave him a false smile. "Looks like your mouth is going to get you in trouble again."

George shrugged. "Better my mouth than… some other part." Bob had developed a reputation for making blatant and unappreciated advances to a number of women onboard the ship. The other techs suddenly became very busy, though George heard a couple of hastily swallowed laughs.

Bob paled, except for two bright red spots on his cheeks. "You'd better go see what the producer wants, Laughton," he said in a cold, barely-controlled voice.

George managed to keep a blank expression until he reached the hallway, then broke into a satisfied grin. Bob was just too big a target to resist. His smile quickly faded, though, as he climbed toward Ariel's office suite. Whatever the producer wanted wasn't liable to be anything good.

When Ariel's secretary sent him in, George found the producer leaned back in his chair behind the chrome and glass desk, rocking lightly as he stared at his visitor. Ariel's bulk hardly seemed to fit in the fragile-looking, ergonomically superior chair. Today Ariel was wearing a worn black t-shirt decorated with a yellow smiley face that had a bullet hole in the center of its forehead. George and a few of the other gamers had undertaken the task of trying to deduce just how many t-shirts Ariel had brought on the cruise with him. So far they'd only come up with four, which he seemed to wear a couple of days at a time. _Slob_ was the word that most often came to mind.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Ariel?" George asked politely as Ariel waved him inside. It wouldn't do to show the producer his feelings. Disgusting or not, he was a name in the industry, and George wanted to continue working.

Ariel gave him a narrow stare. "What are you doing with the wiring?" he asked without preamble.

George's heart started to pound. He stared at Ariel, hoping he didn't look too guilty as he formulated his response. He had thought about what he would say if someone asked what he'd been doing.

"Uh, I'm investigating a problem with the recording network."

Ariel kept staring. "Your supervisor hasn't informed me of any problem with the cameras."

George pressed his palms against his thighs to keep his hands from trembling. "No, it doesn't interfere with the function of the system. It's an efficiency thing." He managed a shrug. "I'm mostly satisfying my professional curiosity. None of the obvious things are the problem, so now I'm down to checking hardware connections to see if something is corroded or improperly grounded."

Ariel's expression lightened minutely at his explanation, which George took to mean he was buying it. 

"Well, quit." Ariel drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Leave the wiring alone. I don't want you accidentally breaking something."

George nodded. "O.k."

Ariel sat up in his chair and turned his attention to something on his desk, dismissing George from his attention. George took that as the sign to leave.

Once outside the office, he breathed a silent sigh of relief. When Dan Steiner had hired him, he'd expressed concern that the recording system onboard the _Radiant Heart_ had been modified. He wanted George to find out if it was true, and fix it if it was. Now the only question was, did he continue with that assignment knowing that Ariel was on to him?

#

"Does anybody know what they did?" Stacy Anderson asked the other marrieds as they waited for the crew to finish setting up the stage for the Tribunal. The Moleneuxs had, apparently, been disqualified, though Mac hadn't heard any specifics. The four remaining couples had gathered on deck a short ways from where the television and sound crews were busy arranging equipment, banding together out of some primeval sense of mutual defense, Mac guessed.

Mac took a moment to surreptitiously take inventory of the others. Jeb and Stacy looked a bit tired, but still stared at each other adoringly. They stood with their arms wrapped around each others' waists, and Mac felt a stab of jealousy. Though she could feel Harm's presence beside her, she couldn't afford to do much beyond glance in his direction from time to time, carefully maintaining a set distance between them. 

In contrast to Jeb and Stacy, John and Delia clearly showed the strain the cruise was taking on them, and on their relationship. Though their hands were clasped, their faces showed lines of weariness and defeat. 

Mac glanced toward the final couple. Boothe and Carmen, oddly enough, looked like they always had. But then, she didn't think there was much love there to be lost, so perhaps the cruise wasn't as stressful for them. Ariel hadn't continued to push them to withdraw after hearing Boothe's side of the abuse issue. Mac didn't know what to think about all of that. Bud had confirmed Carmen's background: her family owned one of the largest diamond import businesses in the country. She was, indeed, the spoiled little rich girl Boothe painted her as.

Carmen tossed her hair, letting the constant ocean breeze blow it back from her face. "Who knows," she answered Stacy's question. "But I'll bet _somebody_ feels like an idiot now. Four and a half weeks-- gone." She snapped her fingers.

John and Delia looked at each other, the gazes meaningful and a little guilty. When they turned back to the group, John spoke.

"We might as well tell you guys now… we've decided to withdraw. We're going to tell Ariel once the Tribunal is over."

Mac looked over at Delia and saw the quiet relief in the other woman's eyes. She smiled in understanding, and Delia echoed her.

Carmen shook her head in disgust. "You're gonna throw it all away?"

John pulled his wife protectively close. "Some things are worth more than money." He looked from Carmen to Harm, his expression challenging. Mac fought a smile. John and Delia were both so disappointed in them.

Harm held out his hand to John, who shook it firmly. "We wish you the best."

John smiled for a moment. "Care to join us?" He met Mac's eyes for a moment.

Mac flushed at the gentle criticism, but Harm just shrugged it off, grinning. "No thanks. We're still in the running. But, why don't we agree to get together after this is all over, the four of us. Atlanta's not that far from D.C. We can reminisce, and maybe see what kind of dent we can put in the million in one night."

Laughing, John nodded. "Sounds good. You'd just better make sure you bring that million, hear?"

Harm smiled, cocky as ever. "Count on it."

On impulse, Mac hugged Delia. A lump formed in her throat. "I'm happy for you," she whispered, fighting to keep her emotions in check. She wasn't even certain why the news made her want to cry.

"Me too, girl." Delia hugged her back, hard. "Promise me you'll be good?"

Mac laughed through her tight throat and nodded. They separated, then Stacy hugged Delia as well while John and Jeb said goodbye.

Carmen watched them all like they'd lost their minds. Perhaps, to her way of thinking, they had. Mac dismissed the thought. She no longer cared much what happened with Carmen. That the other woman had duped her made her angry, and doubly so because she'd managed to use one of Mac's deepest wounds against her.

One of the coordinators came over to shoo them all toward their places, preventing Mac from following her train of thought any further. She glanced up at Harm, who gestured for her to precede him. Mac bit back a smile. Being a gentleman was so ingrained in him he couldn't turn it off, even now. Mac liked that. It helped her to remember that the man she loved really was inside there somewhere. He'd left a note in her novel every day for the last three days, and that helped, too, but words on paper could be hard to hold on to despite her promise to trust him. It was an ongoing struggle, but one she felt she was slowly winning.

Mac sighed softly. _Ten days, three hours, and forty-six minutes._ She couldn't wait.

#

Harm ground his teeth in the dimness. He was never going to get to sleep at this rate. Mac lay only a foot or so away on the other side of the bed, and it was killing him not to be able to reach over there to touch her. It was the first time they'd gone to bed at anything approaching the same time in more than a week, and though he knew the secondary recording system wouldn't identify a single touch beneath the covers, he also knew there was no way it would stop with just one. Hence the reason he was trying, with great frustration, to keep his hands to himself.

The horrible thing was that he could tell by her breathing that Mac wasn't asleep either. They lay there, side by side in the pale, silvery light cast by a nearly full moon, unable to talk, unable to touch. He risked a glance in Mac's direction and found her watching him, dark eyes soft and full of longing.

Harm smiled at the sight, unable to help himself. She smiled back, one of those wide smiles that were so rare for her, but it quickly faded. After a moment, Mac sighed and turned her head to stare at the ceiling.

She sat up abruptly. "I'm going to put on some music." She pushed the covers aside and swung her legs off the side of the bed.

Harm rolled over, propping himself on one elbow to better appreciate the view as she stood. The moonlight streaming in through the open balcony door turned her body into a luscious shadow inside the pale negligee. 

"Just don't pick something twangy." Harm remembered at the last minute to make the comment annoyed rather than teasing. She knew he didn't care for most of her country music. She didn't like his Hendrix, either, though they did have some tastes in common.

Mac sighed reproachfully. "Don't worry, I'll pick something we both like." She managed to pack an incredible amount of bitterness into her voice. Mac's acting abilities continued to amaze him.

Mac knelt in front of the CD player for a while, sorting through music. Eventually, she slid a disk into the tray and stood. As the first strains of a familiar bluesy tune drifted out, she went to stand at the balcony door, staring out over the water. The song was an old one by one of Harm's favorites, the great Ella Fitzgerald. Her voice felt like velvet as it filled the darkened room, combining with the moonlight to make the night over into something magical. 

Harm watched, entranced, as Mac tipped her head back, swaying gently in time to the music. She seemed to have forgotten he was there, losing herself in the sultry, melancholy sounds. Harm held his breath, not wanting to break the spell.

As the final notes of the song died away, Mac straightened. She turned away from the window, the light dusting her hair with an ethereal glow. Harm wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything so beautiful. Mac looked at him with limpid eyes, and held one finger to her lips in the sign for silence.

Harm pulled the sheets back as she returned to their bed, and took her into his arms without a sound. Mac slender body molded against his, their lips seeking each others' as if they couldn't survive another moment apart. 

And in the darkness surrounding them, Ella crooned a lover's lullaby.


	31. [31]

Chapter 31

Harm walked into the HALO room and was greeted by a round of hellos. He returned them, making a conscious effort to keep the exuberant bounce out of his step and his voice. Making love to Mac had put everything right with him again and it was very hard not to let it show.

Harm was early, so the lights were still up. He went over to the little buffet that lined the wall, taking a couple of sushi rolls and a pile of fruit to ward off the midnight munchies. This was about the time of night Mac started talking about ordering pizza, which Harm's stomach invariably regretted. Smiling to himself at the thought, he found a seat at one of the many tables.

His humor died as George walked in. He and Mac had agreed they had to bring the other man into their confidence if they wanted a chance at getting Ariel on tape. The prospect made Harm nervous-- he didn't like involving an innocent (not to mention untrained)-- civilian. 

"Hey, George!" Harm waved him over. 

George immediately changed directions. He flopped into a chair beside Harm. "Hey."

Harm looked at him in concern. George didn't look like he felt well. "You o.k.?" he asked.

George waved away his scrutiny. "Jut some heartburn. Had one of those unpleasant meetings with my boss's boss yesterday."

Harm didn't let his interest show. "With Ariel?"

George nodded. "Yeah. I've been trying to track down a minor problem with the recording system and I was looking at some of the wiring… Ariel freaked, like I was going to break something." George rolled his eyes. "Yeesh. It's my job to keep it all working. You'd think they'd trust me to touch it without all the micromanagement."

Harm made appreciative noises, though he was pretty lucky in that department. The Admiral probably gave him more leeway than was really warranted, and Harm worked hard to make sure he lived up to that trust. George's statement, however, rang a number of bells in Harm's mind. Was it just coincidence the other man was telling him he'd been looking at the recording system wiring? Could he be a plant? One of Webb's? If so, was this his way of letting Harm know he'd been looking into the trouble with the cameras? Or, if not… what did it mean? His information about the secondary cabin recording system had been extremely valuable.

"So did you find the problem?" Harm asked after a moment. 

George shook his head. "No. I'm pretty sure I had a lead on it, but Ariel doesn't want me looking into it any more." He shrugged. "Like I said, he's afraid I'll break something."

__

Or afraid you'll find something, Harm thought, suddenly grateful for their decision to bring George in on the investigation. He had the note in his pocket, telling George who he and Mac really were, what they needed to know about the recording system, and why. All he needed was the opportunity to pass it to the other man. Hopefully he could do so once the gaming session started.

Other players trickled in over time. To Harm's relief, Nikki Upton did not appear. He wasn't exactly sure what he would have done if she had, but it would have made his evening far more difficult.

Since George was high in the standings, he got to play the first round. Harm found himself a seat near George and leaned back to watch, beer in hand. Don found them a bit later, along with a couple of other people who usually used that gaming station.

"So, I hear you told Nikki Upton off," Don commented as he sat down, earning Harm an exaggerated round of congratulations from those nearby.

Harm slewed around in his seat, feeling a flush rising in his cheeks. "Uh, yeah… pretty much." He was embarrassed to admit it, considering how bad a move it was for his investigation.

"At least you finally came to your senses." 

Harm cocked his head, eyeing Don in the strobe-like lighting from the projection screens. "Oh?"

Don chuckled and shook his head. "Man, if I had a wife like yours…"

"Donny, you couldn't handle a wife like his." George looked away from his game for a second, grinning. The smile turned into a grimace as he dug the fingers of one hand into his side.

Harm smiled at Don, too, trying to look innocent. "He's got a point."

Don gave them both a mock wounded expression, hands folded over his heart. "Oh, you got me." He sprawled in his chair for a moment, playing dead, then sat up abruptly. "So, what _does_ it take to handle a woman like Mac?"

Harm chuckled. "If I ever figure it out, I'll let you know."

Don gave him a wolfish grin and turned his attention back to the game.

Onscreen, George's character paused in the middle of a firefight, taking massive damage from one of the other players. Harm reached over to slap him lightly on the shoulder.

"Hey, George! You still awake there?"

George's head lolled back like a rag doll's. The game controller tumbled from his hands to clatter on the floor. His eyes rolled back in his head, showing the whites, and Harm saw flecks of foamy saliva decorating his lips. 

Don jumped to his feet with a cry of alarm. 

"George!" Harm barely managed to get his arms under the other man as he collapsed sideways out of his seat. Harm kicked the chair out of the way, making room to lay him down on the floor. George's body felt boneless. His dark skin was the color of ash, made all the more ghastly by the strange lighting. Harm cradled the other man's head, searching first for a pulse, then for a telltale breath between the pale lips. He was relieved to find both.

"Get the ship's doctor!" Harm looked up at Don, meeting his frightened gaze and holding it until the cameraman nodded. Don pushed his way out of the room, through the gamers that had already begun to gather around George and Harm.

The lights came up, blinding after the earlier darkness. George went into convulsions.

Harm grabbed his shoulders, trying to keep him from slamming his head against the thinly carpeted floor. He fought down the fear that climbed up his throat. He knew very little about seizures. All he could do was hold on. 

The convulsions ended after a few minutes that seemed like an eternity. George lay still, seeming lifeless except for the shallow rasp of his breathing.

The doctor arrived at a run with his bag in one hand and a portable stretcher in the other. Harm moved out of his way as he checked George's condition. At the doctor's direction, Harm helped him transfer the unconscious man onto the stretcher, then took up the other end to carry him to the infirmary.

The next few hours passed in a blur. Harm stayed with the doctor, helping him to restrain his patient through several sets of convulsions. George didn't come to, which Harm gathered from what he overheard to be a bad thing. A heart monitor maintained a steady, reassuring beat, but George's open eyes remained empty and unfocused. The doctor could give Harm no explanation for the seizures. All he could say for sure was that George had no medical history of such things.

After the Coast Guard helicopter took George to the mainland for further treatment, Harm forced himself to rejoin the gamers who'd gathered in a frightened knot on deck. It was nearly 3am. His thoughts continued to turn with unanswerable questions. Why George? Why now? His gut screamed foul play, though he couldn't offer a shred of evidence to support it.

"He'll be o.k." Don offered with a half-hearted smile. 

Harm glanced over at him. "Maybe." He looked back out over the dark water. "I hope so." The note he'd intended for George remained in his pocket, useless now, and a man he'd grown to consider a friend of sorts was in serious condition. If Ariel had had anything to do with that, he would deeply regret it.

"Man, why does this stuff always happen to _us_?" Don shook his head. "First Nikki going over that cliff, now this."

Harm could only shrug. Nikki's near-fatal fall had been the result of her own reckless stupidity. He'd been pretty angry when Bud filled him in on the details. But that wasn't something he could tell Don, nor could he tell him his suspicions about Tony Ariel or of his renewed fears for Mac's safety.

Harm sighed. "I'm going to try to get some sleep. We won't hear anything until morning, at the earliest."

Don nodded, and Harm turned to go. He clapped Don on the shoulder as he passed, imparting what little encouragement he could with the contact.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Harm."

#

As Harm sat on the edge of the tub waiting for someone on JAG's end to pick up the phone, he felt utterly exhausted. It was that bone-deep, numbing weariness of too little sleep coupled with too much stress. The assignment had begun to take a heavy emotional toll. Harm had woken his wife up when he got back to the cabin, needing to see her, talk to her, even if it was just within the boundaries of their charade. 

Now, Mac sat beside him on the tub's rim, her fingers laced with his and her dark eyes filled with gentle concern. They'd decided that a little comfort and sympathy would be believable without destroying their set up. But not much. Mac would need to leave before long.

"Lieutenant Roberts." Bud's voice filled the line.

Harm leaned his head next to Mac's so they could both listen in. "Morning, Bud," Harm said. Mac added her own greeting.

"Good morning, Commander, Colonel." Bud's tone held an echo of concern. "How are you doing?"

"We've been better," Harm answered honestly.

"Well, we've got some information for you on this end, sir, which may help." His demeanor became businesslike. "Let me transfer you to the Admiral."

Harm and Mac exchanged looks. The line went quiet for a minute as Bud put them on hold.

"Good morning, Commander, Colonel." This time it was Admiral Chegwidden. The two attorneys returned the greeting.

"I'm putting you on the speaker phone," the Admiral told them. "We have quite the crowd this morning. The SECNAV is here, along with Mr. Webb and Lieutenant Roberts."

Mac raised her eyebrows at that, but didn't comment.

"How is George Laughton?" Harm asked without preamble. He had no interest in exchanging pleasantries today.

"He's in stable condition at Tampa General, Harm." Webb's voice sounded a bit forced, as if he were standing on the far side of the room and projecting to make certain the speaker phone picked him up. "Lab results showed a couple of drugs in his system that account for his collapse. One's an immuno-suppressive used in some cancer treatment regimes, the other lowers blood pressure." Webb's voice grew louder, as if he were approaching the Admiral's desk while he talked. "It's a potentially fatal combination, but your friend wasn't given enough to kill him. He hasn't woken up yet, but the doctors don't think there's much risk of permanent damage."

__

Much? Harm took firm hold of his anger before he could say something sarcastic to Webb that the other man didn't deserve, and that Harm would later regret.

"Do you have any idea where the drugs came from?" Mac asked. "Could Ariel have cooked up something like this?"

"Probably, ma'am." That was Bud. "We uncovered something interesting about Ariel. His father was a pharmacist for twenty-eight years. There's a good chance Ariel could have learned enough from him to put together a chemical cocktail like the one Mr. Laughton was given."

Harm's anger settled into a cold lump in his stomach. He did his best to ignore it. He needed to be calm and rational.

"That lends credence to Mrs. Antony's claim that she was drugged." Mac's nails drummed lightly against the tub's plastic rim. 

"It's not proof, though." Harm met his wife's gaze. The risk had just gone up, if Ariel had access to potentially deadly drugs and had the knowledge to use them. "And we just lost our inside help. Did you know George was investigating the recording system onboard? He claimed he was tracking down a small problem with the system, but I suspect it was more than that. He's not one of yours, is he, Clay?"

"No, he's not mine." Webb sounded a bit aggrieved, as if Harm had been lobbing an accusation rather than asking a simple question.

"I suspect, Commander, that we'll discover he was working on Daniel Steiner's instructions," the Admiral added. "The investigation is public knowledge—at least, as public as the legal requirements will allow. Mr. Steiner is milking the situation for all it's worth, and I wouldn't be surprised if he put George Laughton on that ship for the express purpose of finding the problem with the recording system so he could have footage of Ariel's crimes for his show."

Mac frowned thoughtfully. "Which could mean he knew what Ariel was doing during the first cruise."

"Maybe, but we can't assume that."

"No, sir," Mac agreed.

Harm forced himself to focus on the factual aspects of the case. "Is there any evidence of Ariel possessing the drugs that were used?"

"Not yet," Webb told them. "I called in a favor with the FBI. They're looking into it with LAPD. They've already got a warrant for his residence. The warrant for his office is still in work, but shouldn't take much longer."

Harm nodded. That was the first good news of the day. "Keep us informed."

"Sure thing."

"What else?"

"I have something, sir," Bud injected, sounding a bit hesitant. "I just got the email this morning."

"About what, Lieutenant?" the Admiral asked.

"The hall recording from outside the room where the incident with Mrs. Antony took place."

That got Harm's attention. The hall video was one of many pieces to the puzzle that simply wouldn't fit together.

"Believe it or not, it was Lieutenant Singer who thought of it, sir." Bud was obviously talking to the Admiral now, with the rest listening in. Mac mimed an expression of utter shock at his pronouncement, to which Harm rolled his eyes. They shared a grin, the antics safely hidden from the eyes of their superior.

"All of the recordings have a digital time stamp on them," Bud continued. "You can see it down in the bottom right hand corner of the screen on all of the raw tape. The Lieutenant suggested checking the timestamps to make sure the footage of Mrs. Antony entering the room was legitimate, since the angle of the camera doesn't let us see room numbers or any other distinguishing features in the hallway." Bud's speech quickened, as it always did when he was leading up to something important. "So I had a friend in crypto take a look. It turns out the timestamp had been altered."

"So Mrs. Antony probably _didn't_ meet the reservists of her own free will." Mac jumped on it before Harm could put his thoughts together. "Her account is sounding more and more plausible."

"Nothing ties it to Ariel, though," Harm countered. "Not conclusively, anyway."

Mac nudged him in the ribs, a slow smile appearing on her face. "That's why we're _here_ instead of a private beach on Fiji, dear."

Harm raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. "Fiji, huh?" Sharing the phone the way they were, their faces were only inches apart. Mac nodded, parting her lips in silent invitation. Harm accepted without reservation, catching her mouth in a sweet, promise-filled kiss.

"Stop it, you two." Webb sounded like couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or disgusted.

Harm broke the kiss after a moment and stared into his wife's chocolate eyes. "Stop what, Clay?" He could see Mac biting her lip to keep a laugh from escaping.

"Whatever you're doing, and before you ask, no, I don't want the details."

"Can we get back to the case, people?" The Admiral effectively cut off any comeback they might have made. He seemed amused, though.

"Of course, sir." Harm did his best to sound like nothing out of the ordinary had been going on. It would get Webb's goat, if nothing else.

"Are you still prepared to go forward with your plan to lure Tony Ariel out, Commander, Colonel?" The SECNAV spoke for the first time. 

"Yes, Mr. Secretary," Harm answered with a familiar pang. "It's the only way to positively tie Ariel to the crime, at least right now. If we catch him attempting the same thing with Mac, we can use that to tie all of the circumstantial evidence to him."

"And are you aware of the high visibility of this case, along with your own... ah, more personal visibility?" The SECNAV never sounded comfortable talking to the JAG lawyers, but now he sounded especially stiff.

Harm and Mac traded knowing looks. "Yes, sir," they chorused. 

"Good. Then I don't need to tell you how important it is for the Navy's public image that this case be brought to an unequivocal conclusion."

__

Translation:, Harm thought, _Everybody's watching, so don't screw it up!_

"Yes, sir." 

"Just be careful," the Admiral added. "Both of you." He paused. "I can't afford to lose two of my best attorneys. I have cases piled up already, waiting for your return."

Harm and Mac smiled at that. "Yes, sir."

"We'll be careful, sir." Mac tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Now, if you gentlemen will all excuse me, I need to be going. I'm meeting Toby for breakfast."

"Is that--?" Webb began then broke off in consternation.

"The boyfriend," Harm supplied. Mac gave him an odd look. He shrugged. "Well, he is."

Flashing him a seductive grin, Mac slipped off the edge of the tub and down to the floor. She crawled around Harm's knee, coming up between his legs to wrap both arms around his neck. Harm chuckled. "No that I'm worried or anything." His free arm fastened itself around her waist.

"You'd better not be," Mac said before her lips fastened on his.

"Oh for crying out loud." Webb's voice echoed through the phone's earpiece, small and tinny. "We're hanging up now." The line went dead with a click.

Harm and Mac burst into laughter that they hastily muffled in each others' shoulders. Harm set the satellite phone down on the floor, then drew his wife into a tight hug.

"Get some sleep, o.k.?" she said, her lips brushing his ear in a caress. 

Harm nodded, drawing back. "I will." He kissed her one last time. "I'll see you later."

Smiling crookedly, she stood and walked to the bathroom door. She paused there to wave, then disappeared into the cabin. 

Harm stared for a long time at the place where she'd been. Fiji sounded like a wonderful idea.


	32. [32]

Chapter 32

"How are you holding up?" Toby asked after Mac joined him at the restaurant. Their table sat in a small corner of one of the upper decks, giving them a spectacular view of the ocean. Mac could see the green mound of an island in the distance, but had no idea which one it might be. She was beginning to feel very guilty about dragging Toby into their schemes. She and Harm were, in essence, setting him up to be duped into rape… though she had no intention of letting _that_ happen. Hopefully her would forgive her, once all was said and done. 

Mac sighed. "All right." She brushed a few hairs away from her face. "Didn't get much sleep. Harm's really upset-- you heard about George, didn't you?"

Toby nodded. "Yeah. Kinda scary. Has anybody said what happened?"

"No."

Toby reached over to squeeze her hand, and after a moment she squeezed back. "I'll bet Harm's lighting a fire under somebody, then."

Mac couldn't help a smile. "Not yet, but if there's no news by the time he wakes up, I'm sure he will." She looked down at their joined hands. "Why are you asking me about Harm?"

Toby shrugged. "You care about him, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"So why shouldn't I ask? If it's important to you, then it's worth knowing."

Mac carefully extricated her hand and sat back in her chair to study the man seated across the table. She knew without a doubt that she loved Harm with her whole heart. She had no interest in Toby-- in that way, at least. But more and more she was seeing in him a dear and true friend, and she disliked having to add a sexual aspect to their relationship. 

She sighed. "Thank you. I appreciate that."

Now it was Toby's turn to study her. "Do you mind if I ask you something personal?" he said as a waitress came by with menus and water. The waitress left again without speaking, obviously sensitive to the serious nature of their conversation.

Mac bit her lip, but nodded. "Go ahead."

"What happened between you two? You seemed so happy there at first."

Mac raised an eyebrow. "That's a pretty personal question." She sipped her water, staring out at the ocean as she formulated a vague answer. "I don't know. Marriage just didn't turn out to be what I expected." 

"So what are you going to do now?"

Mac looked at him quickly, wondering if the intent behind the question was really as obvious as it seemed. Toby gave her a sheepish grin. "I mean, there's less than a week left in the cruise. After that, what are your plans?"

He couldn't have played his part any better if she'd written his lines for him.

"I don't know." Mac toyed with her napkin, feeling uncomfortable with the entire conversation.

Toby wouldn't quite meet her eyes. "Well, if you get to a point where you're ready to look for something different… give me a call, o.k.?"

Mac nodded slowly. "O.k." She flashed him a smile, thinking how sad it was that her relationship with Mic had given her so much practice at pretending a love she didn't feel. "I just might do that."

He grinned back.

They sat there for several minutes, just smiling at each other as they perused their menus. The waitress returned to take their orders, and no sooner had she left than another person took her place beside their table.

Mac looked up in surprise at Boothe. A young woman-- one of the singles-- stood with him, her fingers laced with his. Boothe looked between Mac and Toby with a knowing smile, then turned his attention solely to Mac. 

"Maybe _we _should have gotten together last night, Mac-- killed two birds with one stone." He winked at her, as if sharing a private joke. "Not that I'm disparaging your choice, of course." He nodded in Toby's direction.

Mac watched him warily. He seemed far too chipper. 

"This isn't what you're thinking," she told him with a gesture in Toby's direction. Then, "So are you and Carmen disqualified?"

Boothe chuckled. "This far into things, I figured it would really tick Carmen off. What do you think?"

Mac resisted the temptation to shake her head. "I think you're right."

He winked again. "Well, we'd better go. I'd like to get some breakfast before they come for me. Bye, Mac."

"Bye, Boothe." Mac watched him walk away, somewhat stunned. After a moment she turned back to Toby, who widened his eyes theatrically. _Wow_, he mouthed.

Mac found she had nothing to say. Already the day had taken on a bizarre quality, and it was only breakfast.

#

George Laughton had been pronounced able to see visitors for all of about five minutes before a trio of men in business suits let themselves into his room. Two had the unmistakable aura of cops around them. The third was something different. Government, if George had to guess.

The head of the trio looked like he might have played football in college. He was big and beefy, with his thinning hair cropped down to a nub against his skull. He smiled politely at George.

"Mr. Laughton, I'm Agent Peters of the FBI." He gestured to the second man, who George guessed to be his own age or a bit younger. "This is Agent Fellows. We'd like to ask you some questions."

"Who's he?" George looked over at the third member of the trio, a nondescript, sandy-haired man who hung back near the door.

The man stepped forward. "Clayton Webb, CIA." He met George's gaze, piercing him with an intense stare. The ordinariness he projected, George realized, was little more than a shell. The man behind that mask was someone to be reckoned with. "I believe we have a mutual friend."

George could only think of one person who might have friends in the CIA. "Harmon Rabb."

Webb's lips twitched, as if a smile were lurking there, trying to get out. "That would be him."

Sudden concern pushed George's curiosity aside. "Is he all right?" He looked between the three federal agents. "Nothing happened to him and his wife, did it?"

"Not yet," Peters answered at the same time Webb said, "The commander and the colonel are fine."

George breathed a sigh of relief. He'd had a niggling worry for them in the back of his head ever since learning about the drug interaction that had landed him in a Tampa hospital.

Webb's gaze narrowed. "And now I'd like to know why you didn't even bat an eye when I used the Rabbs' ranks. You knew they were military."

"Y- yeah." George stared at Webb, thoroughly intimidated. "I wrote the data upload/download scripts we use to transfer footage from the ship to the studio, so I snuck in my own newsfeed when I did it. Just the top stories off the New York Times website and the sports scores. I wanted to stay connected, y'know?"

The young agent-- Fellows-- turned to his superior. "I _knew_ there was an anomaly in the downloads to the ship!"

"So you've known about the investigation of Tony Ariel and the first _Temptation Cruise_ since the story broke." That was Agent Peters. He had a notebook out and was making some notes.

George nodded. "Yes."

"But you didn't tell the Rabbs."

"No. I warned Harm that there was a secondary audio-only system that ran in the contestant cabins at night, but that's all."

"Why were you checking out the wiring onboard the _Radiant Heart_?" Webb continued to watch him suspiciously. George was beginning to get the feeling the CIA agent cared pretty deeply about what happened to Harm and Mac.

George gave him the truth. He didn't have enough visibility of the larger picture to know what benefit there might be to guarding his answer, so it could only get him in trouble. "Dan Steiner told me to-- when he hired me."

Agent Peters paused, pen suspended over his pad. "What exactly did Mr. Steiner tell you to do?"

"He said he suspected the recording system had been tampered with and he wanted me to find out-- quietly-- and fix it, if it was. I was pretty sure even then that it had something to do with the rape case, which was all over the news." George paused to get his hospital-issue water bottle and take a sip. His head had finally stopped pounding, but he still felt parched.

"Did you find anything?"

"Oh, yeah." George kept the bottle in hand, resting the base against his thigh. He had the feeling he was going to be doing a lot of talking. "There's an extra system onboard that controls the cameras in a couple of the cabins."

Webb flashed a humorless smile. "Let me guess: A-31 and C-5."

"How did you know?" _And more importantly, why couldn't anyone have told me? Then I wouldn't have had to trace the wiring the entire length of the ship to figure that out!_

Webb shrugged. "Those are the cameras that had intermittent problems during the first cruise. Mrs. Antony was raped--"

"Allegedly raped," Peters reminded him.

Webb waved the correction away. "Whatever. The incident occurred in C-5."

George looked back and forth between the two men, his thoughts turning. "So was I supposed to figure out how to keep those cameras functioning full-time? Why didn't anybody tell me?"

Peters and Webb traded looks. "Ah… we didn't know about you." Webb gave him a bland stare. "Unfortunately, we didn't have enough information to suspect the camera system had been tampered with until after the second cruise started, and Mr. Steiner didn't see fit to share his plans with us."

"Oh." George decided he didn't dare say more on that subject. It sounded like Steiner might be in some trouble.

"Let's talk about what happened to you," Agent Peters suggested.

George's stomach clenched at the thought. He'd come pretty close to dying, the doctor had said. "Somebody drugged me."

"Somebody?" Webb asked.

"Yeah, somebody. I don't even know when or how."

Peters tapped his pen against the back of his hand thoughtfully. "But it was after Tony Ariel told you not to mess with the recording system wiring."

George nodded. "Yes. The next day."

"Is there anyone else who might have wanted to harm you?"

"My boss, Bob Schliegler, maybe, but he's pretty incompetent. The doctor said the drugs they gave me are hard to get."

Peters made another note, but didn't seem to take the suggestion too seriously. That was all right with George. He thought it was Ariel, himself.

"My understanding," Peters said, "from talking to your doctor, is that you had an unusual reaction to the drug combination. Most likely, it was only intended to make you sick."

"That's hardly reassuring, Agent Peters." A steely note crept into his voice. He'd nearly _died_.

"About that extra system to control the two cameras…" Webb rocked lightly on his feet.

"What about it?" George wanted to know.

"Could you have fixed it so those cameras would be on full-time?"

George frowned. "I hadn't completely defined the system when this happened, so no. But now that I know what I'm looking for, I could probably do it in a day or two. Do you have any idea how Ariel is controlling the system? That would help a lot."

Webb shook his head. "Sorry." He paused. "What if we got you back on the _Radiant Heart_?"

Peters gave his colleague a dirty look. "The doctors aren't going to release him for at least another twenty-four hours, Webb. And how could you guarantee his safety? If Ariel did this, he knows Mr. Laughton is a threat to him."

Webb voiced a short, frustrated sigh. "I know."

"The AV crew could do it." 

Both agents turned sharply to look at George. He shrugged. "Except for Schliegler they're a pretty good bunch of guys. They'd be happy to help if they knew what was going on."

Somehow, Webb managed to look suspicious and thoughtful at the same time. "How many people are we talking about?"

George took another sip of water. "Eight, total, but they work two shifts-- well, three now. Somebody would've had to take my shift. You could have one crew working on Ariel's network while the other is on for their regular shift. It'd be pretty easy to erase any evidence of what they were doing if you had both crews working it, and they'd get it done a lot faster than I could working alone."

"How do we know we could trust them? What if one of them went to Ariel? Harm and Mac's lives could be at stake."

George tried not to feel too insulted. This man was a strange one, but he obviously looked out for his friends. "I don't think any of them would do that. Except Bob, of course. Avoid him at all costs." He paused. "But the technical crew are just regular guys. They'd love to have a chance to do something really important, especially if it'll discredit a lemming like Ariel."

"A lemming?" Peters asked.

"No original thoughts. Just follows the trends."

The big man cracked a smile. "Oh."

Webb chewed on his lip, oblivious to their exchange. "All right," he finally agreed. "I'll run it by Admiral Chegwidden and see what he thinks." He nodded to George.

The three men took their leave after that, joking as they left that they'd never live it down if anyone saw the FBI and CIA playing so well together. George watched them file out of the room with an odd smile. 

__

Ethan Hunt, eat your heart out, indeed.


	33. [33]

Chapter 33

The first step in bringing the AV crew in on the operation was to get a note to Baggy-- a thirty-ish man with the rather unusual name of Sudhanssu Baggs. He was a British national of Indian descent, and spoke with a heavy accent. He was the technical lead for first shift. He was also one of the top gamers, which gave Harm a simple excuse to talk to him. 

Once that was done, all Harm could do was wait. He got his answer the next night, when Baggy came over and dropped into the chair next to him. Since Harm was in the middle of a game, he could only spare a glance in the other's direction.

Baggy sprawled in his seat, a bag of Cheetos in one hand. "The boys and I are going to try to talk Ariel into letting us send George some flowers or what have you in the hospital. We're getting together after things wrap up here--" He gestured toward the game controller in Harm's hands-- "to figure out what we want to do. You want in?"

Harm was impressed. It was a completely plausible story. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Lovely." Baggy grinned, pleased. His smile faded. "Now all I need to do is figure out how to keep the boss from finding out about it. He'd probably try to take over and make it some kind of 'from the office' thing, and take all the credit." He sighed dramatically. "Ah well. He's probably off terrorizing women at _La Vida_ anyway." And with that he got up, winking at Harm as he walked off to talk to some other folks.

Harm got the hint, wondering what Clayton Webb would think of how well these people were playing the subterfuge game. And they didn't even know what was going on yet. All he'd told Baggy was that George's collapse wasn't an accident, and that if the AV crew wanted to help get the guy who did it, he needed to talk to them without anyone knowing, and without cameras.

When the night's session began to wind down, Harm told Baggy he was going to go back to his stateroom for his swim trunks so he could take a few laps in the pool after they decided what to do for George. But what he really needed was an excuse to talk to Mac.

He found her sleeping when he got to the room. He stopped for a moment, savoring the unguarded view of his wife. She lay on her side, with both hands tucked beneath her chin like a little girl. Mac always tried to be so tough. In sleep, though, the stern mask fell away, revealing the luminous, sometimes fragile woman beneath. 

Harm resisted the impulse to stroke her hair, knowing she would instinctively turn toward the caress, smiling in her sleep. That would no doubt be his undoing tonight. He was desperately worried for her. Not because she was incapable of taking care of herself, or even because the situation was all that dangerous-- but simply because he loved her so much that it made his chest ache whenever he thought about _how_ much, and how much it would hurt to lose her.

Turning, he went instead to the dresser, purposely fumbling about in the dark. Light sleeper that she was, Mac sat up almost immediately and rubbed her eyes.

"Harm?"

"It's me." He kept his sentences short, clipped. "I just came by to get some things. Go back to sleep." He had his back to her and didn't turn around. Instead, he grabbed what he needed and headed for the bathroom to change.

As he'd hoped, Mac followed him. "Where are you going _now_?" she demanded, catching the door before he could close it.

"Out." The open door meant the secondary recording system would pick up what they said, so a little arguing was in order.

She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, giving him a rather spectacular view considering the lacy number she was wearing. She blinked as he flipped the bathroom light on. "With who?" But her smile belied her tone. It was a wicked, flirtatious smile, one that sent a heated thrill through him.

Harm grinned back, fighting to keep an angry tone to his voice. "Not that it's any of your business, but nobody. I'm going to swim some laps, that's all."

"Harm, I hardly ever see you anymore." She punctuated the statement with a luscious, full-lipped pout. Her dark eyes danced.

"You don't seem to lack for company." Harm crossed the distance to her in a single stride and dragged her into his arms. "Quit it, Mac," he whispered in her ear. "You're killing me." He nibbled her earlobe in retaliation.

Laughing silently, Mac struggled away from him. "Pots and kettles, Harm. You seem to be doing just fine with Ms. Upton." For a moment, her eyes turned serious, begging him not to take offense.

He didn't, though it was his instinctive reaction. "There's nothing going on between us and you know it, Mac." This time it wasn't hard to put aggravation in his voice.

"Well, there's nothing going on between me and Toby, either, so let's just drop it."

"Fine."

"Fine."

In the ensuing silence, Mac shut the bathroom door, turning the handle with exaggerated care to make sure the latch didn't make a noticeable click when it closed. They both breathed sighs of relief.

Mac slipped into his arms for a kiss, which turned into several. 

"So what's the story?" she asked when they parted.

Harm stroked the curve of her waist, following it downward until she squirmed and swatted playfully at his hand. 

He chuckled. "I'm headed out to talk to the AV crew now. However… Baggy thinks we need someone to run interference with Bob Schleigler, to make sure he doesn't crash the party." He gave her a significant look.

Mac shook her head emphatically. "Oh no, not me."

Harm raised an eyebrow.

Mac rolled her eyes at him. "The man's a Neanderthal."

"Just keep an eye on him. He's supposed to be at _La Vida_ tonight."

"What if he asks me to dance?" She managed to look horrified at the thought.

Harm grinned. "Aw, c'mon, Mac. Where's your take charge, do or die, anything for the Corps spirit?"

She eyed him dubiously. "I must have left it at home along with the rest of my good sense."

Harm turned on his most wheedling smile. "Your nation needs you, Mac…"

She snorted. "Fine, but if he drools on me, I'm rubbing it off on you."

Harm leaned close. "You can rub anything on me you like." He wiggled his eyebrows for effect.

Laughing quietly, she smacked him on the chest. 

Harm caught her wrists and pulled her close. "I'd better go. Until we meet again…" He leaned down to kiss her deeply.

Mac twisted her hands free from his grasp, then wrapped her arms firmly around his neck. "I'll be looking forward to it."

#

Harm grabbed the black case containing the satellite phone before he left, hiding it under his towel. That was another reason for the late-night swim. He walked down to the AV room, feeling underdressed in swim trunks, a t-shirt, and bare feet. He missed being in uniform, missed the preciseness of it and the comfort of knowing exactly where he fit in the larger scheme. When they got back to Washington, he promised himself he'd never complain about wearing his uniform again, not even the whites.

All eight members of the technical crew had beaten Harm to the AV room. He found them waiting in a loose circle around the two main camera stations. Conversation died when he walked in, which didn't surprise him too terribly much. These weren't Webb's people. Nonetheless, they were doing a pretty good job so far.

Baggy nodded to one of the other techs, who immediately jumped up and went to one of several floor-to-ceiling racks of electronic equipment. He opened a metal cover to reveal a panel with dozens of little switches on it, each with wires attached. The tech, whose name Harm didn't know, carefully counted his way along one of the rows, then yanked something out of the panel. 

That done, the group turned expectantly to look at Harm. He took that to mean the camera covering the room had been disabled. He decided not to ask. In his experience, talented technical people didn't need to be second-guessed. It would only insult them.

"I guess that would be my cue," he said, setting the case containing the satellite phone down on the nearest desk and laying it flat. "I'm going to talk fast so we don't raise too many suspicions. So here it is." He took a deep breath. "I'm Commander Harmon Rabb, United States Navy. I'm a lawyer with the Judge Advocate General Corps. My wife is a Marine Lieutenant Colonel, also with JAG. We're helping with an FBI investigation into rape allegations that were made during the first _Temptation Cruise_." 

Eyes widened all around as Harm went on. "The investigation is focused on Tony Ariel. We believe he arranged the circumstances of the rape incident, and that he drugged George to get him off the ship when he discovered George had been examining the recording system onboard the _Radiant Heart_. We don't think Ariel knows he was deliberately studying the system-- he just got nervous. However, George had discovered a second control system attached to the cameras in two of the empty cabins, one of which is the cabin where the rape took place. The control system appears to interfere with the operation of the cameras in some manner."

"George works for the FBI?" one of the techs asked incredulously. He looked like he couldn't have been more than twenty. He sat on the lip of one of the consoles, kicking his legs like a little kid.

Harm shook his head. "No, but it doesn't really matter. What I need from you--" he looked around the group, "--is to disable the extra control system in such a way as to be undetectable to whoever is using it. We want a clear recording of whatever Ariel does in those cabins."

Baggy gave him a long, slightly stupefied look. "It's a bit much to take in, Harm."

Harm shrugged. "I know, but it's true anyway. Here." He opened the case and pulled out the satellite phone. Dialing the number Webb had given him, he waited while the connection completed. 

"Webb."

"It's me. Put George on."

"And hello to you, too. Are you always this cheerful in the middle of the night?"

"Jut put him on, Clay."

A sigh. "Let me wake him up. Hang on."

Harm handed Baggy the phone. "George can tell you what he knows."

Baggy accepted the bulky piece of equipment, and Harm leaned his hip against a desk as he listened to the conversation. It quickly turned technical, leaving him feeling excluded. But by the time Baggy handed the phone back to Harm, the entire crew had drawn together into a conspiratorial knot, something he took to mean they thought they could do it.

Harm put the phone to his ear. "Clay, you there?"

"Yep." Webb sounded tired. "Is there anything else I should know?"

Harm mentally reviewed their plan. "I don't think so. My only concern is whether Ariel knows we're on to him. This thing with George has to have made him nervous."

"I agree with you there, but I don't know what we can do about it." Harm could hear the unspoken concern in the CIA agent's voice. He worried about Mac almost as much as Harm did. "This isn't my show, unfortunately. But I know Peters, the lead agent on the FBI's side. He's a good guy. He's transferring a response team to the Coast Guard cutter that's shadowing you. They can be onboard in about fifteen minutes, if you need them."

Harm nodded, feeling somewhat reassured. "Thanks, Clay," he told the other man with real gratitude.

"Don't mention it." 

Harm cut the connection and turned to Baggy. "Can you guys do this?"

Baggy nodded. 

"How long?"

The question elicited a frown. "Not more than forty-eight hours, I should think."

Harm pressed his lips into a thin line. There were about four and a half days left in the cruise. Forty-eight hours would be cutting it pretty close.

"Any way to make it less than that?"

Baggy shrugged. "That's worst case. We'll probably have it done well before then."

Harm was forced to accept that. He glanced over at the two consoles. Each one had a large main screen surrounded by six smaller screens. "Can you view the feed from all the cameras here?"

"Yes."

Harm nodded. "All right. That's it, I think."


	34. [34]

Chapter 34

Harm spent a moment at the ship's rail, looking out over the ocean. He'd taken to running in the early evening since Mac was still getting up to run in the mornings. This particular evening-- less than twenty-four hours since his conversation with Baggy and the AV crew-- the sun lay low on the horizon over a calm, flawless sea. The light breeze was fresh and cool, but to Harm's mind lacked the choking tang of jet fuel that should have accompanied it.

He sighed. His body had not taken well to having a twenty-year routine undone. He was staying up until two or three a.m. every night and sleeping until noon, and had probably eaten more junk food in the last five and half weeks than in the previous five and a half years. And though he _had_ stuck to a regular exercise regime, it didn't feel like enough.

Harm stretched extensively, cursing his age and ejection seats, then headed out along the upper deck track. He liked it more than the lower deck's. Fewer people came up there, which was worth the price of having a significantly shorter loop. The short loop meant there wasn't much of a straightaway, and that put more strain on his bad knee. Not that he would ever admit to having a bad knee. It wasn't sufficient to keep him off flight status, just twinged more often and tended to stiffen up when it was going to rain. One more injury, though… Sometimes Harm wondered just how many more times he'd be able to come back from something serious. 

Pushing such bleak thoughts aside, he started off. The rhythmic thump-thump of his shoes on the track made a perfect counterpoint to the cries of the gulls wheeling overhead. The birds gave the _Radiant Heart_ a constant escort, having learned that cruise ship passengers often tossed food over the rails just to watch them dive to catch the pieces.

Harm had gone about two miles when he saw a young woman angling across the deck to intersect him. She looked like one of Nikki's friends-- the redhead who often hung around with her. He searched his memory for a name, finding it after a moment. Chelsea. 

Frowning, he slowed to meet her.

"Hi, Harm." She tucked a lock of deep red hair behind her ear. She was dressed in a pair of cutoff shorts and a halter-top, but there was nothing particularly flirtatious about her greeting.

He nodded in return. "Chelsea. What's up?"

She cocked her head to look up at him. "I'm looking for Nikki. You haven't seen her, have you?"

Harm put his hands on his hips. He hadn't seen her except in passing since the incident at the pool, and was quite content to keep it that way. He shook his head. "Not recently."

She wrinkled her nose in frustration. "She must be avoiding me. Well, thanks anyway." With a wave, she turned away.

Harm watched her go, wondering if he should be concerned about Nikki. There was no telling what she might be up to. Finally, he shook his head. He'd finish his run first, grab a shower and then check in on her. Mac wouldn't get too upset, he didn't think, and it would ease his conscience to make sure.

#

Mac sat at a small table in the same restaurant she and Toby had been going to lately, sipping coffee and daydreaming as she stared out at the water. Very soon now the cruise would be over-- the investigation would be over, whatever the outcome-- and she would be able to go back to her life. A life that had one huge, wonderful, fundamental change to it.

She glanced at her wedding rings, then back out at the ocean. Right now she was fantasizing about changing out her nameplates at work and getting a new driver's license. _That_ would be a relief-- she looked downright shaggy in the current one. Her experiment with growing her hair out hadn't been very successful.

"Mrs. Rabb."

Mac looked up to find Selena standing beside her table, her hands folded gracefully in front of her. 

"Yes?"

"Mr. Ariel asked me to find you. He'd like to talk to you about the last two days of the cruise. There are, as you probably remember from your orientation, a few changes to the ship's routine as the cruise nears its end."

Mac froze as her heart began to pound. _This is it._

"Just me?" she asked Selena, unable to help the suspicious not that crept into her voice.

Selena shook her head. "Of course not. It _is_ an individual interview, to make sure all topics are open for honest discussion." She gave Mac a fake smile that was probably intended to reassure her. "Mr. Ariel has already spoken with each of the Andersons."

"What about Harm?"

Selena shrugged. "I believe he's running at the moment. I'm sure Mr. Ariel will talk with him later this evening."

Mac rose to her feet, feeling a wave of dread mixed with adrenaline. _Showtime._

She followed Selena to Ariel's office. Stepping inside, she made a quick review of the room, but saw nothing alarming. It was just an office, though even messier than her own. 

"Come in, Mrs. Rabb." Tony Ariel didn't stand to greet her, but instead waved her forward from where he sat behind a modern-looking black metal desk. Mac did so, seating herself in one of the chairs pulled up before it. Selena withdrew silently, leaving Mac to study Ariel across the space of a few feet. 

"Can I call you Sarah?" he asked as he swiveled his chair ninety degrees toward a small wet bar tucked away behind the desk.

Mac forced herself to lay her hands calmly in her lap. "I prefer Mac."

"All right. Mac it is." He glanced at her from beneath thick black eyebrows, the expression in his eyes less friendly than his voice. "Can I get you something to drink? Coke? Pepsi? Tea? Frappuccino?" 

Mac wondered what would happen if she refused. He would have to find some other way to drug her. But she was the bait for this little trap, and it was time to play her part. _Harm, you had better be out there somewhere, watching my six._

"Coke, please." She didn't want to admit it, but she was scared. Everything inside her rebelled at the idea of voluntarily giving this man power over her, especially knowing what he would do with it. 

Ariel eventually emerged with a couple of drinks, handing one of them across the desk to Mac. She sipped it, detecting a faint bitter tang that might not have belonged, but she couldn't be sure. 

They spent twenty minutes talking about the last days of the cruise, and how things would go _if_ both couples remained faithful. Mac resisted the impulse to ask Ariel some pointed questions about what would happen to his bonus if that happened. She would have liked to have seen his expression, though. The thought nearly made her giggle. She managed to bite her lip, shutting away the bubbling laughter.

__

Phew, there was definitely something in the Coke. She was starting to feel giddy and lightheaded. She needed some air. And a deeper instinct told her she needed to get out of there, and fast, before she was unable to go anywhere at all.

"I'd better go," she told Ariel, rising unsteadily to her feet. 

Ariel didn't seem the least put off by her sudden desire to leave. "Of course. Thank you for your time, Mac." He watched as she turned away, a small, amused smile on his fleshy lips.

Mac made it all the way out into the hallway before her legs started to wobble. She grabbed the wall for support as the world tilted sideways and threatened to slide away entirely.

"Mrs. Rabb? Are you all right?" a voice murmured in her ear. Ariel gripped her arm in one large hand. "Here, let me help you to your room."

Mac stared at him, unprotesting, as he led her down the hall. Sounds had taken on strange echoes, like she was walking through a metal pipe. Nothing seemed familiar until Ariel opened a door and led her into a stateroom. It wasn't hers, she knew immediately, but the bed looked awfully comfortable. She sighed contentedly when Ariel walked her over to it and let her collapse onto the soft surface.

She turned her head to look at him. "Tired," she told him, slurring the word almost beyond recognition.

"I'm sure you are," he answered pleasantly. She felt the bed sink as he sat on the edge beside her.

The last thing she was aware of as she slipped away were his fingers on her shirt, slowly unfastening the buttons.

#

Baggy drummed his fingers impatiently on the AV console, wishing a pox on Bob Schliegler and all his kin. The AV crew had taken care of the redundant control system in the wee hours of the morning, which he'd let Harm know about in a few hours at the HALO tourney. Knowing what he did now, though, all Baggy really wanted to do was to put the two cabins up on the main monitors and wait for something to happen. He wasn't entirely certain what that might be, but it was bound to be interesting.

Baggy looked over at his boss, who sat in his chair reading his soft porn magazines and occasionally glancing around the room to make sure the techs were keeping busy. Baggy muttered a few choice words. As long as Schliegler was around, the monitors had to stay on their normal targets.

Who knew what they might be missing.

#

Harm had just stepped out of the shower when someone banged on his stateroom door. 

"Coming!" Still dripping, Harm wrapped himself in a towel and went to answer it. One of the techs from the morning shift stood on the other side, sidling from foot to foot in fretful impatience. He pounced the moment Harm opened the door.

"Harm! Word is your wife went to see Ariel in his office for some kind of meeting. But when I went by there, his assistant said they'd both left. She said Mrs. Rabb didn't look like she was feeling too good."

__

It's started. The knowledge hit Harm like a physical blow._ Please, let her be all right._

He didn't let his reaction show. "When was that?" he asked.

The young man checked his watch. "Twenty minutes ago. I wasn't sure where you were."

Harm nodded. "All right. Thanks." He glanced down the empty hallway. "You'd better get out of here."

The tech nodded and took off. Harm closed the door. He just stood there for a moment, gathering his wits. A part of him wanted to panic, to scour the ship until he found Ariel and beat the man's face in if he'd so much as _touched_ Mac. But the rational part of him maintained control. Ariel wasn't the key. Toby Mathis was the critical link in this particular chain. The set up went from Ariel to Toby, and from Toby to Mac. So that was where Harm needed to go.

Harm shook himself into motion. He went to the closet, dressing in a loose shirt, jeans and tennis shoes. Then he went into the bathroom to retrieve both black cases, laying them out on the bathroom floor. He pulled out the Berretta nine-millimeter pistol and inserted the full clip. He chambered a round, lowered the hammer and flipped the safety on. The gun went into his waistband at the small of his back, beneath his shirt. He also pulled out the satellite phone. There was no point to hiding it now, and he might need it.

Thus prepared, he left the stateroom, headed for Toby's. If the younger man was planning to meet Mac for Ariel's arranged rendezvous, he would no doubt be getting ready. He had to force himself not to run through the hallways, but still used his long legs to great advantage. It only took a few minutes to reach Toby's cabin. He knocked.

A few agonizing moments later, the door opened to show a slice of Toby's face. He stared at Harm in surprise, colored by guilt. Harm tried not to let himself feel too much anger toward the man. They were using him as much as Ariel was.

"We need to talk," he told the other man.

Toby stared at him for another moment, then started to shut the door. Harm jumped forward and shoved his shoulder into the gap, forcing it open. Toby stumbled back. Harm quickly let himself into the room, pushing the door closed behind him.

Toby backed away, his expression frightened. He raised his hands. "Hey, look man, I don't know what you think's going on, but nothing happened. I swear."

Harm stared into the other man's face, wondering what his own expression must have looked like. _He probably thinks I'm ready to kill him_. He made a conscious effort to calm down.

"It's o.k., Toby." Harm didn't move from his place by the door. He effectively had the young man trapped. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to know when and where you're meeting Mac."

A puzzled crease appeared between the blond brows. "What?"

"When and where you're meeting her." Harm tried to keep his words slow and calm. "She sent you a note, probably through Tony Ariel, arranging a tryst. I need to know when and where."

Toby slowly shook his head, looking mystified. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about." Harm could see the truth of the statement in his clear blue eyes.

He stared at Toby in dawning horror. His link to Mac had just evaporated.


	35. [35]

Chapter 35

Harm hit the AV room at a run, skidding to a ragged stop next to the two main consoles. Baggy took one look at his face and turned completely to face him, his expression filling with alarm.

"Bring up Ariel's cabins," Harm ordered, unconsciously falling back into military mode. "You got it done, right?"

Baggy nodded, and Harm felt a small measure of relief. At the same time, Bob Schliegler jumped to his feet and came over, his stance indignant. 

"Contestants aren't allowed in this area! You're going to have to leave." He reached over to grab Harm's arm. Harm shook him off, his eyes never leaving the screens. The two main screens now showed the interiors of the two cabins. Both were pristine and empty.

Schliegler grabbed his arm again. "You're going to have to leave, Mr. Rabb!"

Harm had neither the time nor the patience to spare. He whipped out the Beretta, pressing the muzzle against Schliegler's breastbone. 

"Back. Off." He enunciated each word carefully and clearly. However, since he didn't really want to shoot the pompous jerk, he left the weapon's safety on. Schliegler didn't look like he knew enough about handguns to know the difference.

Schliegler's eyes turned into saucers. He backed away, stammering in terror. Harm waved him toward his chair. "Sit down and stay out of the way. Understood?"

Schliegler nodded and sank into his seat. Harm turned back to the console.

"What are we looking for?" Baggy asked him after a moment of stunned silence. The other three techs on the shift gathered around to watch the screens.

Harm returned the gun to his waistband. "Mac." He bit his lip against the wave of sick terror that threatened to engulf him. "Ariel's got her, but he changed the plan so I don't know where she is, or what he intends to do with her."

Baggy motioned for one of the other techs to take the seat in front of the other console. "I'll take A through D decks, you do E through G and the maintenance areas," he said.

The other man nodded. Images began cycling through on multiple screens while the gathered crew watched.

"Look for Ariel, too," Harm added, his voice tight from the effort of keeping himself under control. "He can tell me where Mac is."

Baggy nodded. "Right-O."

As the screens flashed, Harm recalled the satellite phone in his other hand. Growling curses at his own stupidity, he dialed Webb's number.

After three rings, it picked up. "Webb."

"Clay, I need that response team."

"What?" Webb's voice held a clear note of alarm. "What happened?"

"Ariel's got Mac, but he didn't follow the game plan. At the moment, I can't find her. Or him." Harm gripped the back of Baggy's chair so hard the edge bit painfully into the backs of his knuckles. He barely noticed.

Clay didn't waste any time. "All right. We're on our way," he told Harm. "See you in fifteen."

"We?"

Clay snorted. "Yes, 'we'." His tone said he thought Harm was an idiot for even asking.

And that, strangely enough, gave Harm a sense of hope. His friends never let him down when it mattered most. He cut the connection.

"Anything?" he asked the techs and received twin head shakes.

Harm went back to watching the camera feeds, his brain frantically sorting through everything he knew about the case. The answer had to be there, somewhere. 

"Wait." A small detail lodged in his thoughts. It was just a hunch, but he'd learned to trust his hunches. They were rarely wrong. "Have you seen Nikki Upton on here?" He gestured toward the screens.

The tech at the other console narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Uh… yeah. I think so." He spun his trackball, sending one of the small screens through a flurry of images. He slowed the spin, eventually coming to rest on a single image.

"There," he said, pointing to the screen where Nikki could be seen lying sprawled on her bed. "Looks like she's sleeping in her room."

Harm stared at the tiny, peaceful form. Why was this bugging him? "Put it on the main screen."

The tech did so, and Harm leaned forward to peer more closely at the picture. He noticed the unhealthy white caste to her skin and her blue lips immediately. His breath caught.

"She doesn't look too good," the tech commented. Harm could tell he didn't really understand the import of what he was seeing.

Harm closed his eyes for a moment, then straightened. He felt suddenly old and very, very afraid.

"She's dead."

#

When Mac came to, she found herself lying in a warm bath. The tub was very full, the water covering her entire body except for her head and the tops of her bent knees. She was naked, but that was to be expected in a bathtub. 

She looked around, taking in details without attaching significance to them. A showerhead emerged from the wall opposite her like the head of a metallic snake. The walls themselves were tiled in white, with sets of four smaller green tiles forming diamond-shaped patterns. Two white towels hung from a rack above her head. She didn't see any bottles of soap or shampoo lining the edges of the tub.

A small noise attracted her attention. She turned her head to find a man kneeling next to the tub, his attention on something on the floor in front of him. He looked up when she moved.

"Well, hello, Mac. I didn't expect you to wake up yet. How are you feeling?"

Mac stared at him. She wasn't feeling much of anything, which she tried to tell him but her mouth didn't seem to be working. Who was he, anyway? Considering her lack of clothing, maybe he was her lover. She didn't think so, though… she had better taste than that. At least, she thought she did. No, the word _lover_ brought a different face to mind-- a strong, handsome face and the bluest eyes…

She was so involved in trying to figure out the blue-eyed man's name that she almost missed her companion's next words. He was shaking his head remorsefully.

"It's really too bad this had to happen," he told Mac with a short glance in her direction. "If Mr. Laughton hadn't had his nasty reaction to the drugs, everything would have been fine." He sat back on his heels. He held a pair of scissors in his gloved hands.

Mac stared at him in fascination. His form was beginning to waver, running like watercolors left out in the rain.

He flipped open the scissors and examined the edges. He _tsked_ sadly. "It's such a shame." He glanced at her again, raising both eyebrows. "What's a shame, you ask? Why, your insane jealousy, Mac. Poor girl." He stroked her hair in sympathy. "You couldn't take seeing your husband spending all his time away from you."

The man reached down into the bath, emerging with Mac's left arm in his grasp. The air felt cold against her wet skin, making her shiver.

"See, first it was Mr. Laughton, and then pretty Ms. Upton. But you couldn't live with the guilt." He turned her arm wrist up, holding it in a tight grip. Then he took the scissors, jabbing one of the points into her wrist just above the bones, and ripping upward along her arm.

The searing flash of agony penetrated Mac's haze. She cried out, reflexively yanking her arm out of his grasp and leaving a splash of scarlet across the edge of the tub. Her arm dropped back into the bath with a soft _plunk_. After a moment, the warm water began to ease the stinging pain. Mac blinked. Tendrils of pink snaked through the bath water in convoluted whorls, beautiful in their own, terrible way.

Mac was a little more alert now. She let her eyelids sag most of the way shut, feigning drowsiness. She was in big trouble here, and if Ariel gave her any more drugs she would most likely be dead before she woke up again. She was afraid, though, that she might end up dead even if he didn't. She couldn't feel her body. She tried wiggling her toes, but couldn't tell if it worked.

Ariel dropped the scissors into the tub. Smart, Mac thought. No one would be surprised by a lack of fingerprints. Of course, he wasn't _that_ smart. The forensics from this little escapade alone would probably convict him, even if she weren't available to testify. And if the warrants the FBI had gotten had resulted in anything, those would clinch the case. Of course, if she died, Ariel would never see trial. Harm would kill him, of that she was certain

And where was Harm, anyway? Why wasn't he breaking down the door to rescue her? Obviously, following Toby to her location wasn't going to work. Ariel had apparently scrapped that plan to cover his mistake with George. But there were cameras covering nearly every inch of the ship. Surely the AV people could find her pretty fast.

Then it dawned on her. She was in the bathroom, the one place on the ship where there were no cameras. Fear clenched her stomach and closed her throat. She was on her own.

Ariel took one of the towels from the rack above Mac's head to wipe off the blood that had gotten on his gloves. 

"It won't be long," Ariel told her. Mac had a sneaking suspicion he was right. He knew enough to cut lengthwise, and if his cut had gone deep enough to get the artery, which she suspected it had, it wouldn't be long at all. 

Ariel dropped the stained towel in a crumpled heap on the toilet lid as he turned away. "Goodbye, Mac."

Mac watched as he walked out of the bathroom, disappearing from view as he made his way to the cabin door. She heard that door open and close again, leaving her alone.


	36. [36]

Chapter 36

Mac didn't feel like she was dying. 

She stared at the water surrounding her. It had turned an alarming shade of red, dark enough to make her body into a shadow in the murky bath. She was running out of time, and quickly.

She narrowed her gaze. _Move, arm… Arm, move. _She tried to will her recalcitrant body into motion. Getting her arm out of the water would allow the blood to start clotting, for whatever good that might do her at this late date. It might also slow the rate at which said blood was draining out of her.

A moment later and much to her surprise, her arm appeared, breaking the darkened surface of the water. 

__

Aha! Her triumph was short-lived. Gritting her teeth, she poured all her effort into raising her injured arm out of the water and moving it over the edge of the tub. Water and blood dripped from her in equal parts, and she had a passing, irreverent thought about the amount of cleaning work she was creating for someone.

Her elbow thunked on the edge of bath, sending a jolt of pain up her arm. Mac stared at her exposed forearm in dismay. She hadn't realized the damage. Ariel's gash ran from wrist to elbow, deep at first but tapering off as it went. The edges of flesh were curled back, ragged and white from the water. Blood pooled where the wound gaped open, spilling over to splatter on the floor with a tinkling sound.

__

Now for the other one. Tearing her eyes away, Mac concentrated on getting her right arm to move. It, too, surfaced eventually. With great effort she managed to get her right hand clamped over the deepest part of the gash, bringing a fresh wave of pain. She welcomed it. Right now, pain was her friend. The searing burn was the only way she could tell her hand was putting pressure on the wound. 

Unfortunately, putting both arms over the lip of the tub meant she had to turn onto her side. Now she was balanced precariously on her hip with nothing but her unfelt toes braced against the tub's far wall to keep her from slipping and going under.

Experimentally, she pushed with her feet and felt her body move against the cool plastic of the tub. _O.k. So my body works…sort of… even if I can't feel it._ She looked around. _If I could just get to the doorway, the cameras would see me._ But that would mean leveraging her entire body out of the tub, something she doubted she could manage.

__

Think! There's got to be a way. How would Harm get out of this mess? Had she been in less dire straits she might have laughed at herself for that one. Harm always managed to think, charm or just plain stubborn his way out of situations that would overwhelm anyone else. 

Mac didn't think charm would do her any good at the moment, which left her with the other two. She stared toward the open bathroom door. The room camera was her only hope. It was only four feet or so away, but could have been four miles for all the difference it made. How could she cross that distance? 

Her gaze fell on the bloody towel Ariel had left on the toilet. She smiled. _Bingo!_ Mustering her resolve, she let go of the wound in her arm and reached for the towel with both hands. The terrycloth felt harsh beneath her fingertips.

Trembling, she gripped the towel in her right hand, holding it against her arm until a large, bright red stain covered it. Then she wadded the towel into a ball and with the last of her energy flung it toward the doorway. She watched it fly a short arc, plopping down just beyond the threshold. 

Exhausted, Mac sank back into the water. Her left arm remained draped over the edge of the tub, blood running down her fingers to drip into the growing puddle on the floor. All she could do now was wait.

#

Harm stared at the image of Nikki Upton with a growing sense of desperation. She'd bee dead a while—long enough for the blood to have pooled in the lowest areas, leaving her visible skin with that snowy, translucent look. And as much as he regretted her death, he was more concerned by what it said about Ariel. There might not be a limit to what the man was capable of.

__

He's got Mac! It was a silent wail. One he would never voice.

Harm raised the satphone once more. He was pleased to discover that his hands remained steady. When Webb picked up on the other end, Harm could distinctly hear the whine of a helicopter's engine spooling up in the background.

"Webb."

"He's graduated to murder, Clay."

The utter silence on the other end told Harm just how much Webb cared for Mac, even if he would never admit it. Brumby had had it right—they'd all fallen a little bit in love with her. Harm had just had the unimaginable good fortune to be the one she loved in return.

"…Mac?" It was little more than a whisper.

Harm stared at the monitor screens, which continued their rapid sweep of every camera on the ship. "No. Nikki Upton. Looks like a drug overdose, or maybe asphyxiation. I didn't see any obvious signs of violence."

There was another short pause as Webb recovered. "Any idea why Ariel would want to kill her?" 

"None. She's connected to me a lot more than to Mac." Harm hated the idea that Nikki might have died because of him, but it wasn't something he could afford to deal with at the moment.

Webb pulled away from the phone to talk to someone on his end. Then he returned. "Harm, I've got to go. We're taking off. ETA is about eight minutes."

Harm cut the connection and spent a moment figuring out how to clip the phone to his belt. The FBI team would search the ship from bow to stern for Ariel and Mac. They had to be aboard somewhere.

On the tails of that thought, he turned to Baggy. "There have to be some areas of this ship that aren't covered by cameras. Maintenance spaces, engine areas, the bilges… things like that."

Baggy nodded. "Sure, but most of them have restricted access. Ariel doesn't have a passcard as far as I know." He pulled out a badge that hung on a retractable cord at his belt and showed it to Harm. The badge had a shiny gold smartchip embedded in its surface, along with Baggy's name and photo. "We have access to the maintenance spaces and wiring closets, but not the engine rooms or the bridge, for example."

"So where could he take Mac that they wouldn't be visible to the cameras?"

The tech at the second console paused to look up at him. "Isn't that what those two cabins are for? He was supposed to be able to fritz the cameras so nobody could see what he was doing?"

Baggy gave his companion a disgruntled look. "But we checked 'em. They're empty."

"Put them up again." Harm ran a hand distractedly through his hair. He felt like he was going in circles.

The two main screens came up with angled views of the two cabins. Both empty. Harm stared at the neatly made beds and sterile, hotel-like furniture.

"Which one is which?" he asked.

Baggy pointed to his own screen. "This is A-31." He pointed to the other. "That's C-5."

Harm's gaze didn't follow him to the second screen. There was something lying on the floor in A-31, way down near the corner of the image.

"What's that?" he asked, leaning forward to study the object more closely. Distortion at the edge of the picture made it hard to make out. The others crowded around.

"Don't know," Baggy ventured. "Looks like a… towel, maybe?"

"Or a piece of clothing," someone else added.

"What's the dark spot?"

Harm leaned forward until his nose nearly touched the screen, his heart pounding. He needed a moment to confirm what his eyes brought him—a small white mound of cloth marred by a dark stain.

Harm straightened abruptly. "It's blood." Chances were good it was Mac's blood.

Harm turned and sprinted for the door. He ran with his heart in his throat, and his mind filled with terrible images. Diane's lifeless body kept flashing before his eyes, mocking him. It couldn't happen again. It just couldn't. He didn't bother with the stairs, sliding down the rails like the experienced sailor he was, and shouting for those ahead to make way. Those that didn't move fast enough got shouldered aside with ruthless efficiency, leaving a trail of angry voices in his wake. Harm neither noticed nor cared.

He paused at the door to A-31 to listen. Hearing nothing, he drew his weapon then cautiously tried the door. It opened onto the same pristine room he'd seen on the monitor. He stepped inside, eyes sweeping the area for any sign of Ariel or Mac.

It only took three steps to bring him in line with the open bathroom door. The cloth he'd seen on the camera lay in front of the doorway, a crumpled, bloody mess. Harm's gaze went past it after a moment, into the bathroom, and his entire world shattered.

The bathroom was coated in blood. It filled the tub, and ran in streaks down the plastic sides, and covered the floor. Mac lay in the midst of the carnage, one arm draped carelessly over the edge of the bath. The thick red liquid dripped from her fingertips.

For a split second, Harm couldn't force himself to move. Couldn't force himself to go over there. He couldn't bear to see her cold and lifeless-- everything he loved ripped away, destroyed by a violent, senseless whim. 

Again.

Then Mac's head turned, her eyes fluttering open. The corners of her pale lips curled in a shadowy smile.

"You found me." It was less than a whisper. 

For Harm, the world snapped back into place with a giant shudder. 

"Mac!" He rushed to her, dropping to his knees in the puddle of blood. The warm liquid soaked into his jeans as he leaned over, sliding an arm under her shoulders and knees to pick her up out of the water. The emotional part of him wanted to drag her into his lap and hold her, sobbing in relief. The clinical portion knew better. She was alive, but still in a great deal of danger. He stood. 

"Ariel--" Mac plucked weakly at his shirt, her expression desperate.

Harm held her close against his chest as he maneuvered his way out of the narrow bathroom. "Shhh. Don't try to talk. Webb's on his way with the FBI emergency response team. They'll get Ariel."

Mac fell silent and Harm concentrated on getting to the infirmary as quickly as he could. He burst into the small facility, startling the doctor who recovered quickly and waved him over to the single examination table.

Harm lay her down, instinctively brushing a few stray hairs off her forehead while the doctor looked her over. The doctor raised his head after a moment, his expression pained.

"I can start an IV to get some fluids into her, but I'm not equipped for this." He shook his head helplessly. "I don't even have a supply of blood. I'm going to have to call for a helicopter to take her to the mainland." 

Harm could read the flat, empty certainty in the other man's gaze. "She doesn't have that long." He felt like he could barely breathe.

The doctor shook his head. "No, she doesn't."

Harm stared into his wife's still face. He wasn't a man to give up-- not ever. He unhooked the satphone. 

Webb picked up on the first ring. "We're overhead now, Harm," he said without preamble, shouting over the roar of the helicopter blades. "They're getting ready to drop the ropes." 

Harm looked upward unconsciously, as if he could somehow see the hovering aircraft through the many floors over his head. "Stop them, Webb! Tell the pilot to land on the deck."

"What?"

"_Tell the pilot to land on the deck!_" Harm rarely broke out his command voice, the one that demanded instant obedience and heaven help the poor slob who didn't jump fast enough.

Webb wasn't exactly cowed, but he got the message. There was a short pause. "The pilot says he can try a soft landing on the upper deck." His tone said Harm had better have a really good reason for his demand.

Harm figured he did. "Good. I'll meet you there." He cut the connection and tossed the phone down on a nearby counter. He didn't need it any more. Scooping Mac back up in his arms and praying she was still alive, he headed for the elevators.

#

The upper deck of the _Radiant Heart_ looked like something out of a movie. The helicopter, a Huey not too different from its Vietnam-era brother, sat with its skids barely touching the deck. The rotor remained at full spin, carrying most of the heavy bird's weight. Men-- and a woman, Harm noted absently-- dressed in black kevlar body armor and helmets jumped down from the transport, rifles held ready. The FBI's response team fanned out as another figure came forward. Harm headed for him, and the helicopter beyond.

Webb looked out of place in his suit and tie. He trotted toward Harm, his sidearm clasped in both hands with the muzzle pointed down and away. He stopped short when he spied Harm, his expression one of stunned horror.

"Holy--!" Webb stepped back automatically as Harm rushed past him. He turned, yelling for the FBI team's EMT, and fell in beside the aviator. "What happened?"

Harm spared him a short glance as the EMT ran up. "Ariel tried to kill her--" Harm's throat closed as he lost control of the fears clambering inside him. "I don't know, maybe he has." He forced himself to move faster. Mac just couldn't be dead. The first tears forced their way out, blurring his vision. "Set it up to look like suicide."

They reached the helicopter. The EMT jumped up ahead of Harm, then helped him load Mac aboard, laying her out on a stretcher on the metal floor.

Clay grabbed Harm's arm as he started to climb in after her. "I'll take care of Ariel," he promised, his eyes fierce.

Harm just nodded. Right now, he didn't care about Ariel. All that mattered was keeping Mac alive. Once she was safe, he would have time for fury, for justice… or for revenge.


	37. [37]

Chapter 37

Capturing Ariel turned out to be somewhat anti-climatic. They found him in his stateroom, packing, as if he could somehow jump ship as easily as one would skip town. Clay had stayed back while Agent Peters read Ariel his rights, smiling slightly at their less-than-gentle handling as they handcuffed him and took him to wherever they would be holding him. Clay was glad the FBI was there to handle it. He wanted to skip due process and simply shoot the man, preferably starting at the toes and working his way upward. He had eleven rounds in his pistol, which might-- _might_-- be enough to quench his thirst for vengeance.

Afterwards, Clay had gone by both of the crime scenes, now taped off and filled with forensics investigators. It was the bathroom that had gotten to him. He'd seen a person bleed out before. It was impossible to comprehend how much blood the body contained until you saw it all in a pool on the floor. But that had been a man, and not someone Clay had known. This was Mac.

Sometimes he wondered why he felt so protective toward the feisty Marine. She was as tough as they came, and had courage enough to fly with. She didn't need protection. True to her credo, she would stand in the breach without thought for her personal safety if it would serve justice or her country. But maybe that was why the men around her automatically stepped in to shield her-- because they knew she would never hide, would never back down. And none of them wanted to watch her pay the price for her courage.

Clay shook his head sharply. It was a bad sign when he started waxing patriotic.

"It gets to you sometimes, doesn't it?" Agent Peters stepped up beside Clay.

Clay nodded, eyes never leaving the desecrated bathroom. "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Especially this one."

"Have you heard whether she made it?"

Clay shook his head. He hadn't been able to bring himself to make the call.

Peters gave him a minute to collect himself before returning to business. "We've got the video sorted out. Thought you might want to see it."

Clay looked over at him, both pleased and grateful for the development. It gave him something to do beside stare at Mac's blood and wonder if he was ever going to be able to look Harmon Rabb in the eye again without flinching.

Clay followed the Peters to the AV room. The group of techs that had helped Harm clustered off to one side, having been ejected from their normal places by a trio of FBI agents. The three looked up as Clay went to stand behind them.

"Let's see it." Clay focused on the screen.

"Which one do you want?" one of the agents asked.

Clay sighed. "Let's do Ms. Upton first." _That way I can avoid the inevitable for a little longer._

The agent nodded and went to work at his keyboard. Not long afterward, a picture appeared on the screen. It was Ariel and Nikki Upton, walking down a hallway, cabin doors to either side. They were talking companionably.

"Ariel and Upton had dinner together just previous to this," the agent said, narrating the scene. "Now he's walking her back to her cabin." The timestamp in the corner put the time at just past eleven o'clock. 

On the monitor, the two stopped. Nikki stepped forward to unlock her cabin door.

"Here." The agent pointed as the tape froze, then went forward in extreme slow motion. "You can see her jump, as if she's been pricked by something." Onscreen, Nikki started and slapped at her leg as if chasing an insect. Ariel's reaction was credible, both in surprise and solicitousness.

"And there it is." The agent froze the scene completely. His finger pointed to Ariel's right hand, which was away from the camera and so mostly hidden. But in this frame, he had turned slightly, revealing both his hand and the slender hypodermic needle clasped in it. As the agent advanced the recording frame by frame, they saw Ariel drop the needle in his jacket pocket.

"So he drugged her." Clay wasn't terribly surprised. "What happened after that?"

The agent shifted to the camera inside Nikki's room. She walked inside then paused, swaying, and put one hand to her head. Grimacing in pain, she made her way to the bed and collapsed across it. 

"That's it," the agent told him. "She doesn't move again. It looks like she simply quit breathing." He gave Clay a grim look. "Whatever he used, it was quick."

Clay nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He braced himself. "O.k. Now how about Colonel Rabb?"

"You sure you want to see this?"

Clay snapped his head around to stare at the agent. His heart felt like it had turned into a lump of ice in his chest. "Tell me he didn't rape her…"

The agent shook his head. "No, but he got pretty friendly." The man shrugged. "It sounded like she was a friend of yours--"

"She _is_ a friend of mine," Clay interrupted harshly. "_Is_." He bit his lip, running a hand through his hair as he tried to contain his distress. He regained control in stages, then turned back to the agent who watched him compassionately. He took a deep breath. "Just show me."

The agent nodded and turned back to his keyboard. Clay watched the video in silence, his jaw tightly clenched, as Ariel removed each piece of Mac's clothing and ran his hands-- and occasionally his mouth-- over what was exposed. When he was done, Ariel donned a pair of gloves then picked up Mac's still form and carried her into the bathroom. A moment later they heard the sound of water running.

"He's filling the bath," the agent said unnecessarily. 

That went on for a while, then eventually shut off. They heard a few indistinct noises coming from the bathroom, but nothing identifiable-- until Mac screamed.

"We figure that's when he cut her." The agent tapped his fingertips against the base of the keyboard. Ariel walked out of the bathroom a moment later, gathered up Mac's clothes, and shoved them under the bed in passing. The cameras followed him out of the room and down the hall-- all the way back to his stateroom.

The screens blanked. The agent leaned back in his chair. "That's it, unless you want to see Rabb coming in to get her."

Clay shook his head. "No, thanks. Good work." But it didn't sound like praise when he said it. He turned away, wandering aimlessly out into the hall. How in the world had they let this happen?

After a moment, he drew out his cell phone and dialed a number. He couldn't avoid it any longer. The phone rang several times before being answered by a familiar voice.

"Chegwidden."

Clay sighed wearily. "A.J., it's Webb. How is she?"

#

The first thing A.J. saw when he stepped off the elevator on the third floor of Tampa General Hospital was the crowd of reporters milling around in the waiting area. Beyond them, two armed Marines blocked access to the hallway leading to the surgery wing. The reporters took note of his arrival-- and his Navy uniform-- with great interest. Cameras swung around to face him as a number of the reporters closed in.

"Sir, who are you?"

"Can you tell us anything about what's happened?"

"Admiral, can you tell us who's been injured? Was it one of the Rabbs?"

The questions came from every direction. A.J. was tempted to push past without comment, but at the last minute he paused. This entire set of events had been put into motion to help the Navy's reputation with the public. He couldn't do anything to ruin that now.

He turned to face the group, squinting against the glare of the camera lights. "I'm Rear Admiral A.J. Chegwidden, Judge Advocate General of the Navy. I'm Commander and Colonel Rabbs' superior."

"Sir, why are you here? Has one of them been hurt?" The reporter directly in front of A.J. was very young and eager-looking. But he was also the only one who had addressed A.J. as "sir". 

He turned to the young reporter. "Yes, Colonel Rabb was… badly injured." He paused, knowing his own information was sketchy at best. He'd gotten a courtesy call from the FBI office in Tampa, but they hadn't known much beyond where their helicopter had dropped off his officers. "I don't have any details." He held up a hand as the reporter opened his mouth. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go see my people."

A.J. shouldered his way through the crowd. The Marine guards came to attention as he passed, then returned to their parade rest stances. They, too, were there to take care of their own. That was the first thing A.J. had done on hearing the news.

A.J. stopped at one of the nurses' stations for directions, then headed to the far end of the wing. His shoes clicked loudly on the polished floors. Tampa General was an upscale hospital, existing primarily to serve the wealthy retirees in the area. The area A.J. walked through bustled, but had none of the crowding or desperation he expected of big city hospitals.

He found Harm eventually, seated on a padded bench at the very end of the hall. A young black man in a hospital gown and attending IV stand sat next to him, eyes fixed on the far wall. The commander sat leaned over with his elbows resting on his knees. He was covered in blood, now dried. It stained his clothes and streaked his skin, matting the hair on his arms into gruesome whorls. There was a dejected air about him that A.J. had rarely seen.

A.J. walked up to Harm. The other man didn't look up. His hands rubbed continuously against each other, thumbs brushing away dark flakes of Mac's blood.

"Commander."

Harm's head jerked upward. A.J. stared into the face of the man who was more of a son to him than any other, and his heart went out to him. Exhaustion and stress had taken their toll, leaving him haggard. Even Harm's deep tan couldn't hide his pallor, or the emptiness in his gaze. He stood after a moment, swaying slightly.

"Admiral."

A.J. feared the worst. "Mac?" he asked softly. 

Harm stared straight ahead, not really seeing his superior. "She arrested on the table." His voice was flat, hollow. He took a shaky breath, then went on, "The doctor said she was down about ninety seconds."

A.J. needed a moment to process the meaning of his words. "Where is she now, son?" he asked carefully. He hadn't realized how dire Mac's condition was. 

Harm's gaze moved over A.J.'s shoulder, toward the wide doors leading into the surgical theater. "Surgery. They had to repair the artery-- they couldn't stop the bleeding."

"How long has she been in?"

Harm checked his watch. A.J. watched him struggle to do the simple calculation. "Two-- two and a half hours." 

A.J. simply nodded. It might be a while until they heard anything, then. He shied away from thinking too hard about the situation. If he did, he'd have to envision Mac lying on an operating table, fighting for her life. 

"I called your mother. She and Frank should be arriving any time. I'm surprised they didn't beat me here." A.J. paused to unlimber the carryon bag from his shoulder. "I brought you some things." 

Harm made no immediate move to take the bag, so A.J. set it on the floor by his feet. 

"Thank you, Admiral."

"You're welcome." He watched Harm a moment longer. "This isn't a time for formalities, son. Call me A.J."

Harm nodded, but remained silent. 

"There are some fresh clothes in the bag for you." A.J. wasn't sure how to comfort the other man, who was very obviously still in shock. "I'll be happy to stay here and wait for news while you clean up. I'm sure there's a shower somewhere you can use."

"Hey, you can use the one in my room for all that," said the man beside Harm. He looked over at A.J. and offered his hand. "I'm George Laughton."

A.J. shook his hand. "A.J. Chegwidden."

"Thank you, sir… A.J." Harm shook his head. "But I'd rather stay here."

A.J. shrugged, familiar with the stubborn expression on the other man's face. He kept his tone light. "It's your call, but do you really want to have to deal with your mother when she sees you like this?" He glanced significantly at Harm's ruined shirt.

Harm followed his gaze, eyes widening as he took in the bloodstains that covered him. He looked back up at A.J, utterly disarmed. "No wonder the nurses kept stopping to ask me if I was hurt." 

A.J. nodded in sympathy. 

Just then the double doors behind A.J. swung open and a man in green scrubs walked out. He came over to the trio, giving A.J. a sidelong glance but keeping most of his attention on Harm.

"Mr. Rabb?"

Harm nodded, dread filling his gaze. A.J. moved a bit closer to his officer in an unconscious show of support.

The doctor folded his arms across his chest. A hint of a smile appeared on his face. "Your wife is quite a fighter." 

Harm sagged in relief as the implication hit him. A.J. hurried to catch his elbow, his own knees weak.

"Will she be all right?" he asked.

The doctor glanced at A.J. "We managed to stop the bleeding, so from now on she'll be gaining ground." He returned his attention to Harm, his expression encouraging. "She's made it through the hardest part. Like I said, she's a fighter. I can't say she's out of the woods yet, but her chances get better with every passing minute."

"When can I see her?" Harm asked.

The doctor glanced over his shoulder at the surgery doors. "They'll be moving her up to ICU when she comes out of recovery. I'll have a nurse come get you."

Harm nodded. "Thank you." His voice was faint.

The doctor smiled a real smile. "You're welcome. Now, if you'll excuse me…" He turned and headed back through the double doors.

A.J. watched Harm, both perplexed and concerned. He'd expected the other man to snap back to himself once they'd heard good news, but he still seemed as dazed as ever. 

"Harm?" he finally asked. "Are you all right?"

Harm turned. "Not really, sir." He shook his head. "I honestly… didn't think she would make it." His blue eyes met A.J.'s, unguarded and full of pain. "I've been sitting here for the last couple of hours trying to figure out how I was going to live without her…" He made an aimless gesture. 

A.J.'s expression quirked. "Well, quit it, commander." Rabb knew how to wallow better than most, but this was no longer an appropriate time. The sooner he snapped out of it, the better.

Harm turned to stare at his superior in surprise, but then accepted the chastisement. "Yes, sir."

Satisfied, A.J. nodded. "Good. Now go get cleaned up before you give your mother a heart attack." He paused. "That's an order, son."

"Aye aye, sir." Harm bent to retrieve the bag A.J. had brought.

George Laughton watched the two officers, his expression bemused. 

"Do they really say 'aye aye' in the Navy?" he asked Harm once the two started to walk away. "I thought that was just in the movies."

Harm's amused snort floated back down the hallway to A.J., who took it as an encouraging sign. They'd be all right, he finally decided. As long as they had each other, Harm and Mac would always make it through.

He was still standing there when his cell phone rang. A.J. answered it.

"A.J., it's Webb." The CIA agent sounded infinitely weary. "How is she?"


	38. [38] Conclusion

Chapter 38

Mac woke in stages. The dark warmth that cocooned her gave way to a reddish glow she knew instinctively to be gentle light shining on her closed eyelids. After that came voices, rising and falling in conversational waves. She picked out Harm's resonant tenor after a minute, finding joy in the intimately familiar sound. She imagined his face-- the strong, clean lines of it, framing a perfect smile and sea blue eyes that could reflect a soul as deep as the ocean they resembled… or nothing at all. Her first image gave way to a new one, of the heavy doors slamming shut behind Harm's eyes, sealing away his overwhelming horror behind an empty mask. The image frightened her, but for a moment she couldn't figure out why. But then she remembered Ariel, and the scissors, and the blood. Only then did Mac truly become aware of her body. Pain crashed down on her, crushing her arm and radiating into her shoulder and across her chest.

With a gasp, Mac opened her eyes.

Harm was immediately there. She felt his fingers engulf hers on her uninjured side as he leaned over her, a worried crease between his brows. "Mac?"

"Is it over?" she croaked. Her throat felt like sandpaper.

His brow smoothed out. "Yeah, it's over." His fingers caressed her face, trailing gently down her cheek. "You're safe."

Reassured, Mac let her gaze wander away from his face. "Where am I?"

"Tampa General Hospital," another voice told her. A young man leaned over her, white coat draped over his shirt and tie. A stethoscope was tucked into the coat's breast pocket. He smiled down at her. "Welcome back, Sarah. You've been asleep for--"

"Fifty-three hours, sixteen minutes, and forty-four seconds," Mac supplied automatically. That was how long it had been since she'd seen Harm standing in the bathroom doorway onboard the _Radiant Heart_.

The doctor raised an eyebrow.

Harm chuckled. "Now I know you're going to be all right." But the dark shadows that lingered in his eyes told a much larger story.

Mac felt an odd twinge of guilt. "I'm sorry if I scared you, Harm."

He just stared at her, blue eyes unguarded, and for a moment Mac found herself staring into an abyss. She'd seen similar expressions on disaster survivors and war veterans-- those who had seen things that would haunt them forever. She wondered if maybe she'd had the easier time of it, all things considered. After all, she'd been unconscious for most of it.

"You gave us all quite a fright, Colonel." Admiral Chegwidden stepped up behind Harm, coming into her range of view. With a start, Mac realized that there were several other people in the room as well. Trish and Frank were there, and Clayton Webb. All of them looked tremendously glad to see her.

"Admiral." Feeling self-conscious, Mac tried to push herself into a sitting position, only to have Harm gently but firmly press her shoulders back against the bed.

"At ease, Colonel," the Admiral told her with a smile. "I don't expect you to snap to for a couple more days, at least."

"Yes, sir." Mac agreed. She looked over at the doctor. "Am I allowed to sit up?" She didn't like being flat on her back with everyone looming around her. 

He nodded and reached for the controller that dangled near the top of the bed. "Of course." With a sound of grinding metal, the bed began to fold. Mac's head swam at the motion and she grabbed Harm's hand to steady herself. The bed stopped immediately.

"I think that's far enough," the doctor said.

"O.k." Mac agreed, her voice faint. Her stomach twisted with nausea that began to dissipate once she quit moving.

"Mac?" Harm asked, his concern obvious.

Mac blew her breath out in a sigh. "Phew. I'm o.k." When she was able to, she turned her head and smiled at him. The smile dimmed.

"Did we get him?" That was the one question she needed an answer to. Had it been worth it?

Harm nodded somberly. "Ariel's in custody. The DA is talking about asking for the death penalty."

Mac gave him a curious look. "Capitol punishment?"

Clayton Webb approached the bedside. "Nikki Upton is dead." Mac saw Harm flinch ever so slightly at his words. "We have Ariel on tape giving her a fatal dose of the same stuff he gave Mr. Laughton."

Memory overwhelmed Mac for a second, flashing before her eyes. "He was trying to make it look like I'd done it--" She met Harm 's gaze. "In a fit of jealousy. And then killed myself afterwards."

"He very nearly succeeded," Webb told her. She watched as he and Harm exchanged glances. The communication was swift and silent, but Mac had the feeling a great deal passed between them.

Mac squeezed her husband's fingers as remorse and guilt washed over her. "I'm sorry, Harm."

He stared at her incredulously. "You don't have anything to be sorry for, Mac."

She shook her head. "Other than wishing that girl dead from time to time--"

Harm turned swiftly to sit on the edge of the bed. He drew Mac into his embrace, carefully avoiding her injured arm, and held her tight. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine."

"Harm--" Mac began, at the same time his mother broke in.

"Don't be ridiculous, Harm. It's Tony Ariel's fault, and no one else's."

Harm didn't move. His head was tucked again her shoulder and Mac reveled in the feel of his arms around her waist and his body against hers. "I just keep thinking I should have seen it coming," he said into her hair.

Mac sighed. "Yeah, well… you're not the only one. I walked right into it, too." She pulled back far enough to smile up at him. "I'm just glad you figured out where I was."

The corner of his mouth curled upward. "Tossing that towel out there was brilliant, Mac."

She had to smile at that. Harm didn't hand out compliments lightly, even to her. "So what's going to happen now?" she asked, her gaze moving from her husband to the Admiral and back.

"Well," Chegwidden drawled, rocking lightly on his feet, "the Andersons have officially won the million dollars since you two didn't remain aboard until the end of the cruise." 

"Will there be any charges against Dan Steiner or the production company, sir?"

The Admiral shrugged. "Probably not. There's no proof he knew anything before the fact."

"What about our case?"

Another of the Admiral's light shrugs. "The reservists will most likely have the charges against them dropped. Lieutenant Roberts finally figured out the last piece of the puzzle."

Harm gave him a curious look. "Which puzzle is that, sir?"

"The hall recording. We knew the timestamp had been tampered with, but there's no way to know what it originally said. What the lieutenant finally figured out is that the hall video didn't mesh with any of the principals' stories. Remember, the video showed Mrs. Antony going to the room alone first, and then the two reservists arriving some time later. She didn't take anything in with her, nor did they, but both Mr. Brown and Mr. Rossman said in their statements that she had created a romantic atmosphere with candles and music-- which the room video supports despite the poor quality. We know from the ship's manifest that the room wasn't stocked with candles. It's a fire hazard. So, the conclusion to be drawn from these events is--"

"That someone had to have set Mrs. Antony up." Harm finished. Mac smiled at him, shaking her head. Only he could finish the Admiral's sentence for him and not get chastised for it.

"I'm sorry to interrupt--" The doctor looked over at Mac's visitors. " But I need to examine Sarah, so I'm going to have to ask you all to wait outside for a little while." He glanced at Harm. "You're welcome to stay, Mr. Rabb."

Harm nodded. He released Mac and stood, recapturing her hand after a moment. One by one the others came to the bedside before departing. The Admiral simply smiled at Mac, looking a little uncomfortable. He never had like personal situations. Frank and Trish each gave her an encouraging squeeze, and a second one for Harm as they passed him, headed for the door. But it was Webb who truly blew her away. With an indecipherable glance at Harm, he bent down to kiss her on the forehead. 

"Get better, Mac," was all he said. He turned away before she had a chance to formulate a response.

She looked questioningly at her husband once Clay was gone. "What was that about?"

Harm's gaze was shrouded. "He took your almost dying pretty hard."

She blinked, taken aback by his tone as much as the words.

"What about you, flyboy?"

Harm brought her fingers to his lips in a tender caress. "Me, too." For a moment she glimpsed his pain, his terror at the prospect of losing her.

The doctor started his exam then, keeping Mac from pursuing the subject. She watched with trepidation as he pulled away the bandages covering her forearm, revealing the long gash. To Mac's surprise, the ugly wound she remembered had been replaced by a line of black spidery-looking stitches. 

"Wow. Is that it?" She rotated her arm, giving the wound a critical examination. It hardly looked dangerous.

The doctor prodded the edges with a gloved finger, eliciting a hiss of pain from Mac. He gave her an apologetic glance. "It looks to be healing well. No sign of infection. How's the pain?"

"It's fine," Mac assured him. Her arm was throbbing, but she was leery of taking any more medication than necessary. 

"Mac." Harm obviously wasn't buying her claim. "You had surgery. You're entitled to some pain meds."

She glanced at him, taking in the stubborn set of his jaw, and sighed. "I don't like being all doped up."

"How about an unlimited supply of Tylenol, then?" the doctor asked with a smile. "In large quantities, of course."

"Deal," Mac answered promptly and saw Harm's expression lighten. "When can I go home?"

The doctor chuckled. "A couple of days, provided no infection develops." His humor faded. "You've had the equivalent of a blood transfusion, Sarah. Your body will need time to recover from the shock. We also had to reconstruct the artery in your arm, which went well, I'm pleased to say. However, there's a great deal of healing going on under these stitches. It's not nearly as minor as it looks."

Mac swallowed hard as understanding hit her. Ariel really had almost killed her. She hadn't honestly stopped to consider how close she'd come…

The tears came out of nowhere. One moment Mac was thinking about how soon she could get on with her life, and the next she was sobbing in a combination of terror and fury for all the things that had so nearly been stolen from her.

Harm wrapped her in a tight embrace. Mac knotted her good hand in his shirt, burying her face against his chest. The tears passed as swiftly as they'd come. Mac closed her eyes, resting her head against Harm and listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. She was vaguely aware of the doctor replacing the dressings on her arm while she sat there, but everything else was submerged beneath the flood of gratitude she felt simply to be alive. And not just alive, but with everything to live for.

"Harm--" Reaching up, she hooked her hand behind her husband's neck, drawing him down for a much-needed kiss. Their lips met, melding in a reaffirmation of the bond that had been forged between them and would never be broken.

Not if Sarah Rabb had anything to say about it.


End file.
